Distraction

Hiya, goblins and gremlins and ghoulies. Happy (almost) Halloween!

Usually I dote on Halloween like a fat, unhappily married auntie might dote on a favoured nephew. Oh All Hallow's Eve, you are such a clever imp! And so handsome too, in your various face paints and bad wigs and costumes!

I was looking forward to the doting this year. Things seem tricked out in an especially macabre humour, and it is a joy to behold. I was contemplating the purchase of a hopefully red, shoulder-padded power suit and ruffled blouse from the Sally Anne, in which to play 80s Zombie Working Mother/Municipal Politician. Or some such thing. Right now, though, I'm curled in classic protective stance in bed drinking wine and taptaptapping my thoughts onto my absurdly small netbook in the hope of reaching a Conclusion. Then, I sally forth with lease on life #327. Look out, world!

Okay, so this is how it goes. Last few weeks I've been increasingly skeptical as to my participation in a current "relationship". Reluctantly, I conclude I cannot bring myself to call him my Boyfriend. I wasn't seeking a boyfriend when I met him, when I had one foot here and one in my supposed new city of Toronto. Howdy sailor, and how d'you do? I'm booking out soon myself, but let's have a nice time of it in the meantime, shall we?

Agreed. Except as you all know if you've been paying even a bare minimum of attention the last several months, my plans were curtailed drastically and I have not moved to the Big City to pursue a pseudo-intellecsexual way of being. No, I am (quite contentedly) here still, with my huge property and pleasant house and feral pets. The default he chose at the point of my announcing I was staying was well, alrighty then, you are my Girlfriend and hasn't this worked out nicely?

At first, I tried to embrace this. Game face on. He is a lovely man, both physically and in character. I have never been with someone so considerate, easy-going and mature. Would it be so wrong to go with the flow in this case?

Yes.

I can't anymore. I have to face that while I like him (he is eminently likable), I do not love him in the slightest. It's clicked past that 6-month marker where one has to face such truths. I chafe at being Girlfriended, I am tired of the road-trips (he lives two hours' drive away), the regular sex is becoming, well, regular, and worst of all, I'm completely aware of being politely interested in what he has to say.

I know! He's a total fuckin' sweetheart! He's a great dad, a good friend, a dutiful son, etc. Goddamn it, he's boring me to tears, in some respects. No, he's lovely, but I've never been good at coasting. Now I have to figure out how to break up with him. With the ex, I had lots of practise and ample reason at the end, but this one calls for sensitivity and courtesy, and how one does that without sliding into cliche and wounded feelings is a mystery.

Anyway. It's come to this now as I find myself attracted to others. It's come to this as I find myself conscious of the arrogance of indifference. Deep down, I'm terrified of hurting anyone (other than assholes and sparring partners).

It's also come to this as my X has reappeared in the scene, like some warped deus ex machina dropping from the heavens. Suicidal, recently in a car accident that wasn't his fault, indulging in all manner of drugs and alcohol and uncharacteristic aggression, perhaps pushing a big red button I can't see on my back. At any rate, it scared the shit out of me. I convinced him to come here, hid the booze, and talked to him. He's finally gotten to the place where he's scared himself and is ready to do what it takes to survive.

This is weird. Looking at it from the outside, I would conclude there still are Feelings here, there is manipulation occuring, there is sufficient weirdness in the swirl of emotions to call my rationale, if not integrity, into question. To which I shrug, and say (in the words of the immortal Billy Joel): you may be right but you may be wrong.

My X is (still) dear to me. He is isolated and in trouble and wanting to change the trajectory of his life. I feel nothing for him in the romantic sense, but am determined to help him get through a hard time. I would like nothing more than for him to be sober, healthy, with good work and a cool woman. Then I could let him go and be reassured he'll be okay. I've known him a long time and love him to bits, even while feeling dead to him beyond friendship.

In the meantime, I fret and try to help him. I may be royally misguided on this one, but oh well, that's my own damage I need to work through. It does punctuate, however, how indifferent I've become to the Guy I've Been Seeing.

Jeepers. May you live in interesting times, said the fortune cookie. It is interesting. Pulled in all directions. Am I loyal friend? Enabler? Cold-hearted bitch or honest Injun? Wannabe slut, as I eye yet another? Lordy, who knows. I have to pee.

Happy halloween!
Zombie out...