Diary of a Sex-Starved Pseudo-Mennonite, Part 40

Drummer Boy can't see a future for us, so I'm in The Friend Zone. He says his work is not conducive to traveling to see me. He loves me still. Why did we meet on a plane the day I listed my house to sell and leave the West, then spend 2 months enjoying the fuck out of each other and falling in love, only to have it end because of mere trifles like timing and logistics?

Someone special loving you and letting you love them back is a gift, even if the relationship is considered unsustainable by those tethered to the 3-D world. I want to believe that. I try to be grateful rather than sad. I am not 100% winning at this. Because one of my many frailties is that all I care about is love. Everything that's not love is just stuff.

Rather smugly, I've written before that you can't hold on to anything and you shouldn't want to. Nevertheless, I did not want to let go of Drummer Boy when I left my old life. I believed in the power of love to transcend the apparent barriers of space and time.

If it's true that what is meant for you won't miss you, why do I get sad? Because I don't know what's meant for me? Because what I keep thinking is meant for me ends up not being so? To quote Whitney, How Will I Know? Oh, the times I've been so hopeful this is the one! This time, HE'S REALLY THE ONE. In my heart, I still feel Drummer Boy is the one. I guess only time will prove me right or mistaken once more.

Before our months together, I'd never felt the way I felt in the presence of Drummer Boy. No one had ever made me feel so special and wanted and good and gorgeous and accepted and understood and cherished and worshipped and perfect. He made me feel like the ultimate catch. Has anyone ever made you feel like that? How do you walk away from such magic? It's not a matter of gorging on ice cream and bingeing tearjerkers. This feels bigger than that. A Lotto win wouldn't erase the sleep-stealing feeling of loss.

But I guess I just keep going, right? I can't stay still because time doesn't. Wallowing in the what might have been is not helpful. If the love is still there, is this even a true loss? Am I mourning what is merely an apparent loss? I will try to backstroke across my grief slowly, eyes closed but smiling towards the sun, open to a future where some totally legit THE ONE comes back or is newly revealed. Maybe the whole point of this mess is to teach me that I am my own the one, so quit looking outside of yourself for love and completion, you silly bitch. Divorced nearly a year, moved, unjobbed, cut loose by romantic love--now does my true odyssey of the self begin? How will I adjust to being single and free in a different part of the world? Will I turn up shipwrecked and unhinged on a remote Great Lakes island, or just keep swimming, unphased by the idea that there is no shore?

Until Next Time, Sweeties!

Ness Sweet Ness