The End (AKA Part 3)

Read Part 1, if you haven’t, and Part 2, before reading Part 3.  You want the full effect, don’t you?

A little bit of foreshadowing…

• I noticed, a long while back, that one of The Pilot’s friends on Facebook – one of his female friends – had a profile picture of the two of them together. I asked him who she was. “My cousin in Augusta,” he said.
• You’ll remember, when we went to Tahoe, that The Pilot had to turn around and go home because his uncle died. Shortly after that trip, I received a call from The Pilot, upset, because he heard from a friend of his that one of my friends was asking questions about him. I found out that the wedding photographer that went to Tahoe worked with a woman who knew The Pilot. This woman said she thought he was dating a woman in Atlanta. I asked The Pilot about it, and he said that he had gone on a couple of dates with a woman in Atlanta, but it was over by the time we got together. He said he went to high school with the woman who said that, and they only spoke about once a year, so it made sense that she may not have accurate information.
• A few months ago, The Pilot thought I had been cheating on him. The reason isn’t important, but let’s just say that it made sense for him to think that, based on evidence, but that there was actually a reasonable explanation, and I wasn’t cheating on him. We had a heartfelt talk about it. “You know, my ex cheated on me,” he said, “and I still carry that hurt with me, so when I thought you were cheating on me, it just kicked me in the gut.” Understandable.

So, you may have guessed by now. When I logged on to my alternate email on January 22nd, I found a message from the “cousin,” the woman in Atlanta, saying she had read my blog and was wondering why I was writing about her boyfriend. She asked what he had said or done that had led me to believe he and I were in a relationship. Were he and I really just friends, strictly platonic? She asked me, “woman to woman,” what was going on, and I answered her honestly. I asked her some questions of my own, saying that I would appreciate the same, as this has happened to both of us.

I haven’t heard back from her.

He probably told her I was some psychotic stalker who imagined that our friendship was more than that. That’s not the case. I’m not delusional. He told me he loved me. We were sleeping together for a year and a half. I met his friends. He met mine. He met my parents. I thought he was The One, and at one point, not too long ago, we (very hypothetically) discussed marriage.

She also told me that when he came home from Tahoe, it wasn’t because his uncle died, it was because she found out. Found out what, I don’t know. That he wasn’t where he was supposed to be? That he was with another woman? That he was with me, specifically?

I wanted to wait to post any more here, until I heard from her, until I had some closure of my own. But I’ve lost hope of hearing from either her or him, so I’m doing what I need to do for me. I need to move on, but I needed to get this all out first. I will get through this. But part of getting through it involves getting it out, and this is my venue for that. As the tagline says, blogging is much cheaper than therapy.

That being said, it absolutely galls me that he lied to my face, at least twice, about issues I asked him about directly. It also galls me that he would have the nerve to be upset I was cheating on him, when he cheated on me what appears to be the entire length of our relationship. This wasn’t just some fling, a one night stand. He had a full relationship with me, and a full relationship with someone else. At least one someone else. Who knows, there may be more. I have no way of knowing.

(more to come…)

When they say “Living and Breathing Art”

They don’t actually mean literally.

Willard Wigan is an artist.  He does sculptures…within the eye of a standard sewing needle.  

Check out this video – it’s amazing.  He carves sculptures out of a grain of sand.  He paints them with a single strand of hair.  He may have inhaled one of his works of art.

“The teachers at school made me feel small, they made me feel like nothing.  I’m trying to prove to the world that nothing doesn’t exist.”

Here’s his website.

What’s New is Old

This is pretty neat - I found it on metafilter.  It’s a Flickr pool “for images you make where some part of a modern day scene is overlapped by an old photograph.”

You can use photoshop, like this one, or simply hold up a picture, like this one.

I *heart* my friends

I’ve been in a “book club” for over 4 years now.  I use “quotes” because we stopped reading a book and discussing it a long, long time ago.  We all (well, okay, not all) read quite a bit, and we occasionally discuss the books we’ve read, but we’ve given up picking a book for the month.  Or, if we do pick a book, the majority don’t read it, and it doesn’t get discussed.

Instead, we meet to talk, about our lives, about current events.  We all have mostly the same outlook when it comes to life, religion, politics – all the stuff you’re not supposed to talk about in polite company.  And we are all very intelligent and very outspoken, so our conversations can get quite interesting.

And it’s not just when we meet.  Today, at about 11:15, one of the ladies sent out an email, venting about a friend of a friends political remark that pissed her off.  I instantly stopped working and waded in.  I sent my email and cursed, because I had to run out to the grocery store at lunch.  But I knew that things were about to get very interesting.  I went ahead and went to the store, and was gone for maybe 25 minutes.  I got back to 4 new emails.  By 3pm, my inbox had gone from 30 to 69, and only two of those were work related.  To paraphrase one of the ladies, “Jesus H, I run to the grocery store to get provisions and booze and come back to the stench of sardines and politics!”  (Oh, yeah, someone mentioned her husband opened a can of sardines and it was stinky.)

We went from politics, to welfare, to religion, to euthanasia.  We didn’t always agree, but DAMN it made for a good afternoon.

Love you guys!!!

(And I watched the highlights of Obama at the Republican thing today, and it’s amazing how much “Bolshevik” sounds like “Bullshit.”  I had to rewind it to verify what he said.)

The Middle (AKA Part 2)

You’ve read Part 1, right? 

(Really, read Part 1 first.  It’s important.)

(Have you read it?  Make sure you do!)

So, something happened between December 29th and December 31st, evidently, to make The Pilot cut off all communication with me, including changing his phone number, without any explanation whatsoever.  I wracked my brain to figure out what happened, to make some sense of it all.

We’ve been together for a year and a half.  December 21st, things were fine.  December 25th, things were fine.  December 28th, things were fine.  January 1st, things were not fine.  What happened?

Did he meet someone else?  Did he get back together with his ex girlfriend, the one who cheated on him?  Did he decide he didn’t want to be with me?  But, then, why wouldn’t he at least tell me something?  It’s not like we’ve only been together for a couple of months.  After a year and a half, I definitely deserved some sort of explanation, if he didn’t want to be with me anymore.

Did something happen that he was ashamed of, and didn’t feel he could face me?  Did he get furloughed?  I didn’t see anything online about a furlough. 

I had spent the Wednesday before New Year’s at my friend’s house, had he maybe come into town to surprise me, and when I didn’t come home he thought I was cheating on him?  But, then, why wouldn’t he call, why wouldn’t he think something had happened to me to keep me from coming home, why wasn’t he worried about me, rather than jumping to conclusions?

Maybe his online poker games weren’t played with fake money, but with real money, and he had a huge gambling debt and was having his house foreclosed on and…

All of these thoughts went through my head, and more.  I spent two weeks in a state of confusion, trying to figure out why.  I was angry at his lack of respect, not even bothering to tell me anything, angry at his lack of balls, wishing he would fucking grow a set and just tell me something.  Anything.  I just wanted closure.  I was so very hurt, as you can imagine, wondering if he had ever  cared about me at all.  Because, if you ever truly loved someone, you couldn’t possibly do this to them, leave them in this abyss of emotional turmoil with no resolution.  You’ve got to know that the pain of unknowing is worse than the pain of any explanation you might have.

I emailed him repeatedly, but realized that he could have changed his email address as easily as he had changed his phone number.  I emailed his friend on facebook again, simply asking why.  His response?  “Have you talked to [him] about it?”

Ha!  That was humorous.  I responded that I had tried, with no luck, and all I wanted was an answer.  “I’m sorry, I don’t feel it’s my place to say anything.”  And he was right, it wasn’t his place.  I apologized for even asking.  What I wanted to say was, “Your friend is a fucking spineless fuckwad who needs to grow a set and fucking man up.”  But I didn’t say that. 

I created a fake facebook account and emailed him, begging for an explanation.  It’s been over a week, and I haven’t heard back.

It dawned on me, Thursday, that I hadn’t checked the email account associated with this blog in quite some time.  Maybe he emailed me there.  So I signed on.

…..

And, yeah, I’m going to make you wait to find out what I found.  Partly because in telling the story I’m able to disassociate myself from it somewhat, which makes it easier, and the storyteller in me is building up the big ending.  But mostly it’s because I still have one more issue left to resolve, and I don’t want to resolve it here.  I want to resolve it directly, and that hasn’t been done yet.  So, stay tuned for Part 3.

The Beginning (AKA Part 1)

On December 21st, I was super excited to see The Pilot after a very long absence.  We went for sushi (yum!) and had a wonderful time.  I asked him if he wanted to go ahead and do Christmas that night, or wait.  “Let’s wait,” he said.  “I still have one more thing I want to get you.  I wasn’t sure about it, but I think you’ll like it.”

Well, that got me excited about Christmas, finally!  I hadn’t really been feeling the Christmas Spirit, but I was instantly excited, and got more excited as the week went by. 

On Christmas Day, we wished each other Merry Christmas, via technology, but never actually got the chance to talk.  The Monday after Christmas, he texted me about midnight, said it had been a long day, but he would call me the next day.  I didn’t get a call, but I didn’t think much of it.  I sent him a couple of texts that week, and just after midnight on New Year’s, I texted him a Happy New Year message, expecting to get a response back.

I didn’t.

On Saturday, Jan 2nd, I left him a voicemail that I was getting worried about him, because I hadn’t heard from him.  I texted him several times the following week, and emailed him, because I was really worried that something had happened to him.  I was literally nauseous – like, head between the knees to keep from throwing up because I was so worried. 

On Friday, Jan 8th, I had the cable guy come out, and when I went to get my extra key off the hook to let him out back, I found The Pilot’s copy of my house key.  I tried calling him again, and his phone had been disconnected.  Well, now I was really freaked out.  I messaged a friend of his on Facebook, asking if he had heard from him, because I was really worried. The response I received back: “He’s fine.” I logged out of facebook and logged in under my fake name, and found The Pilot on there, so he had evidently unfriended and blocked me.

(Stay tuned for Part 2…)

If you read my blog…

There’s a reason I haven’t posted in a while.  It’s because I can’t write about what I want to write about, but that’s the only thing that’s on my mind.  I’m trying to get a grip on my emotions, so I don’t just rip someone apart on here.  But I’m getting close to my breaking point.  One way or another, I’ll be writing again soon. 

Let’s just say, for now, that my month has not gotten any better.  I’ve been in turmoil, wanting answers, begging for them, but unable to get them.  Not that those answers will make anything any better, I don’t expect that, I don’t want that.  I’m just looking for closure.  I deserve that much.

Protected: Letter to The Pilot (password hint is in post below)

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Password Hint for Letter to The Pilot

I am posting a letter meant for The Pilot’s eyes only.

The hint:  Your friend was dating a woman in Wilmington who had a child.  They spent the night at your house one night, and you gave him a nickname.  The password is two words – that woman’s first name followed by the nickname you gave your friend.

Too much in my head

Enough to make anything I write come out sounding depressed and bitter and sad.  And bitchy.  So I’m going to hold off for the time being.  I’ll be better soon.  I’m sure. 

Oh, but I will tell you I busted my ass today in the parking lot at work.  Not sure what happened exactly, but I essentially fell over sideways, lost my shoe, and my purse, landed on the ground, and actually went all the way onto my back.  Scraped my left hand (asphalt burn, but no abrasion), and my right foot (the one that lost the shoe) still hurts.  I think I hit it on the ground, or scraped it, or something – I thought for sure I had torn the sock and my skin.  But I didn’t.

And, yes, of course, it was my right foot.  Right knee, right hip, right foot…What the fuck next?  Evidently the universe does not want me to exercise, which of course means it also wants me to weigh 200 pounds.

And there I go.  Depressed, bitter, sad.

Signing out.