I did the right thing today. It was terribly painful, but it had to be done. First Love texted me to say he wouldn’t be in town this weekend after all, but would be in a few weeks and would drop me a note then. I then realized how our Saturday night dinner plan was affecting my week, and knowing that it was only going to get worse; when would he be in town, waiting each day for the text to come in, knowing that he had a wife at home who deserved better than a husband who was meeting up with his ex-love. Even if it wasn’t physical cheating, I think the emotional connection is worse. It’s not fair to her and it’s certainly not doing me any good. I’ve been moving forward since the last time we spoke. This was a setback. The fact that I said yes, was just some need to hold onto something I can’t have. How stupid is that?

My first happy birthday text was from him (East Coast has the advantage). I tried to play it cool that he remembered and he wrote something mushy that was like a dagger to my heart. I don’t want to hurt over him anymore, and I certainly don’t want to hear that he is hurting because he he never got over me and is basically trapped in a life that he wish he could have a do-over for (not his words, but the gist). I want him to be happy, and if he can’t, I at least want a shot at happiness.

So I wrote him back and told him not to drop me a note next time he’s in town. I told him I wasn’t over him, and couldn’t be friends right now. Maybe when I fall in love and my feelings for him become something else, I wrote. He wrote back, tugged at my heart a little more, but agreed to respect my wishes because all he wants is for me to be happy, even if that means loving someone else. I hope my recovery time will be shorter than last time, because although I felt empowered when I sent him my text, his response has kept me on the couch for hours.

In tribute of letting him go, I decided it was time to let Earl go too. Any bug that can live under a glass for six days, deserves to be free. Plus I was starting to feel like a freak, talking to him as I cooked… not to mention my mother’s voice in my head telling me how unsanitary it is to have a giant roach under a glass on my kitchen counter while I cook (if you’re just tuning in, go back about two entries, and you’ll meet Earl).

I slipped a piece of cardboard under the glass and set Earl free at the end of my driveway. And wouldn’t you know it, he came running back to me, trying to follow me up the stairs. I know he wasn’t trying to kill me, so it makes me wonder, “Are exes like roaches? Do they just keep coming back?”  If so, I’m going to need some psychological Raid!

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