I told my Instagram people on both my Ann St. Vincent and my real life account that I was taking a break for a while. I found myself doing dumb things like looking at certain men’s accounts who I was trying to move beyond. It was silly and unproductive.
I went through all of my messaging accounts and deleted the men who I was hoping would maybe come back, but knew they wouldn’t. In WhatsApp, I even deleted the archived exchanges (after downloading them, in case I ever wanted to reference them for the blog). The temptation is too strong when I see a text history.
I took it a step further with something I rarely do: I deleted them from my contacts. For a couple, I screen captured their contact info before I did so (baby steps, people!), but will upload the pictures to my dropbox and remove from my phone.
It’s all about trying to create the conditions that reinforce better decisions. I’m not impulsive generally, but sometimes with men, I can be. Especially those I want who don’t want me back.
Men who are gone?
Bruce – after yet another aborted attempt to meet and his not having the courtesy to reply to my last text.
The guy who kissed my friend and me on the same day. After two months of no contact, I sent him a text asking if he’d be interested in a coffee. He said no, he was seeing someone. I expected him to say no, but needed to hear it. I was instantly done.
Gregory. He never replied to my brilliantly worded emails, and I don’t want our messages sitting there, taunting me.
The contractor who flaked on a date last weekend and never sent a follow-up note to say he was sorry.
Other men, some who have been named and some who haven’t. But they are gone. My stable is cleared out, leaving only the horses who make an effort and want to be there.