She had a date over the weekend. She wasn't going to tell me, at first, because she didn't want to hurt me, but it felt worse to her to not be honest.

I know how that feels.

I wasn't upset, though. I was sincerely happy for her, especially when she said she had a nice time. I don't want her to be alone. I don't want her to be miserable. I would like nothing more than for her to find a great guy who adores her, and who she really loves. She really deserves that.

We didn't talk for long on the phone, but she seemed relived that I understood. We canceled our plans for the day, she needed to rest up and get some things done for school the next day. I hung up, and I was smiling and shaking my head. Even though I was glad for her, I noticed I there were tears on my face.

It's been a while since we had seen each other. I had a gut feeling this type of thing might have been the cause. It's a good thing, don't misunderstand me, but each one of these steps still hurts. There's no way around it. It doesn't mean I would change what I am doing. It just means you cannot avoid the pain that comes when two lives seperate, no matter how essential the decision to seperate is.

It's funny how things change so slowly, that you don't really notice. At first, we talked every day. Then we missed a day in between. Then maybe two days might slip. I'd be surprised to see no message on my machine when I got home; now I'm not surprised at all. Every once in awhile, something noticable occurs, and suddenly, I'm aware of all the little changes. Then I find the tiniest traces of her make me have to fight back the tears. I suppose at some point, I'm going to have let these feelings take hold. But I am a foolish man, who is still too proud to cry alone in his apartment.

I know, though, that my pride can only carry me so far.
posted 10:15 AM | link |