cause I don't want to get over love

The first CD I found lying around was Mary Lou Lord's Live City Sounds, whose first song is her cover of The Magnetic Fields "I Don't Want to Get Over You." Um, yeah. First morning thoughts, only very slightly edited:

I finally slept, and I now feel physically better but like my head is permanently foggy. I can’t believe I’m never going to see him again. Or maybe I will, at a party, maybe as the irony piles on at the party for Heeb’s Love issue (we met at the last Heeb party and I wrote something for the Love issue), and I’ll smile for half a second, but not with my eyes, and then look away and run to the bar and other people and act like I don’t care. I mean never be in his apartment, wherever that winds up being, never be up close, never be right there again.

I know I’m doing the right thing but it still hurts. I’m not even hurt that he wanted to fuck other girls it just seems so manic and over the top; it goes against every other image that he projects. And that it was so secret, like he couldn’t tell me and I guess was never going to tell me. I vowed to myself when I got into that relationship I was going to be totally honest, and I was, and it made me feel good even if it was hard sometimes so it just feels like we were in two totally different headspaces. But still.

I miss the way he called me Busselstein and curling up next to him and I know that as totally fucked up as this is and as self-centered as he could be he did care about me. I will never forget him saying “Want to do something crazy?” and asking me to call him when I got home after our ridiculously long first date makeout session against the subway or my birthday or lending me his backpack. Those are little things but they felt like he cared and the thing is, I know he did. I know he didn’t mean to do this to me and I never pressed him to talk too much about stuff. I wonder if he’s sad at all, if he misses me, if he cried at all. Probably not. Probably just going about his business and busyness, and I woke up and realized that I have a ton of work to do that I also want to do, that I’m getting excited about again, but still. I think the whole staying up all night and trying to function yesterday needed to happen and at least maybe my stomach has settled down a little but I feel so sad. Like I woke up and knew, but I didn’t want to know. I still kindof don’t want to know and probably only because I was so adamant about not having any contact am I not calling him.

Part of me wants to know why, know what was going on in his head, but at the end of the day, I can’t let myself care. I always do that. Maybe way down the road I’ll be able to be friends with him, like I am with __. And maybe I cried more over him but this is just such a deeper betrayal because we were so much further along, and I know it wasn’t just me. I felt so honored when he asked my opinion about important things and really listened. I know he valued me and even if that was only in a utilitarian way, if he was pretty much using me for what I could give him, he also cared. I know it was only 6 weeks but it was so intense, all the phone calls and always holding hands and asking me to help with this and that and the nicknames and even Sunday’s silly co-card writing, it’s just not a casual thing. But okay, I know I’m strong and will get over it and have to figure out a way to move on. Maybe date other people and try not to think about the sex with him, which is not even the biggest thing I miss but it was really good, better than in a long time, but I don’t think I could go there now with him again.

And part of me feels bad for him, wants to help him maybe, wants to be the girl that’s there for him and talk it out and not even get back together but just give him a hug, but that’s cause I need it. My friends have been awesome and amazing and so brilliant and I really need that but I definitely need some time to just hide out in my apartment and vegetate. I’m gonna do lots of cleaning and clearing and remaking and making over but it will definitely take a while. But I can do it and I feel like it’s going to be okay, that I’m going to get back to all the friendships and babies (yay for baby therapy) and writing that I’ve been neglecting and at the end of the day, I don’t regret anything. I was happy, ecstatically so, and not just because other people said I looked it. I was, and I know the kind of girlfriend I want to be to someone, someday, and that’s totally valuable to me.