hit me baby. one more time.

Last night I ran into Joel at the Blue Post. He told me he was enjoying one of his last beers in this town for a while, because he is leaving Tuesday. He said it with such nonchalance that it felt like he was spitting in my face.

He will be gone in a matter of days.

Armed with a pack of smokes, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, leftovers from last night, and all of the albums that remind me of him, I am allowing myself one last time to reflect. To cry. To care.

I am hurt, still. Even more so, I am angry. I am pissed the fuck off. I acknowledge the bad decisions that I have made -- but I am so fucking angry. I am angry that I ignored myself. I am angry that I stood by his side for so long. I am angry that he didn't have the courage to tell me it wasn't meant to be; he didn't love me. I am angry that even after fighting in a war twice, he is a coward in real life. I am angry that I tried so hard to be such a good wife. I was supportive. I was as understanding as any woman could be when the man she loved left for work hours too early each day, or when said man didn't come home until the wee hours of the morning. I am angry for remaining so naive when, in the past, I would've known better.

I've told dozens upon dozens of people that I do not regret living in this town. That is true. With that said, I am angry that I left my family. God I miss my family, and yes, I blame him. I blame him for the outcome of our relationship. I even blame him for some of the bad decisions I have made since our relationship ended. I firmly believe that I make better decisions when I am of sound mind, and I have not been.

I will never forget the moment his father asked why I moved here. I will never forget his excuse the next day, "I don't have the same relationship with my family as you have with yours." I won't forget, but it is finally starting to sting a little bit less.

He doesn't even want me to have his new phone number. Even after we were friends, at least I thought we were, for a while anyway. He seemed to have ceased all contact with me after he admitted, on a drunken evening, that he was sorry for how it all ended. That pisses me off, too.

I find it slightly amusing that, since he wasn't able to tell me any of his future plans himself, I've heard multiple stories from multiple people. He's going to open a bar in Omaha with a friend. He's going to work for Union Pacific. He's going back to school. He's going to be a security guard with his dad. He's going to work for the DEA. I don't wish failure for him. I wish happiness; I wish success.

I just hope I am happier and even more successful.

And goodness gracious, I hope that this was the last slap I needed to get myself there. As lame and excuse-giving as it may sound, I think I've held back a tiny bit in his presence. I mean, since the end. Now I have no excuses to be that much better of a person than he is rightthissecond.

I really really wish I wasn't the one who will have to fork over the cash for our divorce. It's funny that it was $45 and the cost of rings to get married, yet it will cost at least $500 to get unhitched in the state of North Carolina. Ugh.

I really wish I hadn't been so hasty. I really wish that I paid more attention to logic than my heart and my happy little imaginary life sometimes. I wish I had listened to my mother.

I really can create perfection in my mind. In my mind, we were about to have it. And then reality happened. And then I created a very poor reality for a while. Seriously, what was I thinking? Oh, right. I was on the search for someone who was nothing like him.

I still am, I'm just slowing down the steps. A lot. Finally.