Delusional

I'm afraid my mood hasn't lifted any today folks. So you may be as well to leave right now...

I'm having a day full of DM. So much for being "so over" that! Yeah right!! The problem is that I can move on if I can believe he is not the man I know, not the man I love, and last week that was really where I was at. But now...? Now I'm not so sure.

I realise the problem with this way of thinking is that all it would take to "fix it" (and I know it would need work on trust and communication, etc) is for him to come back. Because if he came back then he would be that man I thought he was, he would be that man I love, it would just mean it took him longer to realise it than it took me. And I think no matter what his answers were, probably affected by my posting about other men/sex, in his heart of hearts he is still undecided. I think that the invisible cord is still there. Maybe only a thread or two of it but still there nonetheless. And the bottom line is, no matter what I know I should be doing, no matter what my head tells me, I want it to still be there. That has always been the problem. It's not that I crave a happy ever after, it's that I want us to have happy ever after. Together.

But maybe I'm delusional. It's so hard to know. I just go round and round in circles. Believing that he loves me, doubting that he ever has. Believing that I know him, wondering who he is. Believing that what we had was too special to end, thinking I am just another girl to him. Round and round and round...

And I know that it's almost laughable to believe in love to that degree. To believe in someone to that extent. I know that anybody who happens across my blog will be thinking "Jeez, wake up and smell the coffee girl". I know he moved 5000 miles away from me. I know he lives in sunny California, in a beautiful apartment, and earns lots of money, and has opportunities to travel, and more choice about how he lives his life than most people can imagine. I know he has a perfect, tiny, skinny, PhD, high earning, no baggage, black belt, whippet racing, safe new prissy fucking girlfriend. I know he has a "perfect" life.

And I know that I can't match that. That all I have to offer is a fucking crappy council house, and a fair to middling wage, and two bratty children, and lumps and bumps, and demaningness, and early morning grumpiness, and a million other not attractive things.

So why the fuck would he even consider it??!