My Broken Heart Wont Heal

I was just starting to get over him, Scotty. It had been a month since he ripped my heart out and poked it with a stick. He just didn’t love me the way I loved him. Scotty said, “It’s not fair to you.” What a load of steaming monkey shit. He just wanted to go party with younger boys. Now I’m left with the after math of his inability to commit or be truthful.

I had to returned the V-day gift I bought him Just before his birthday, Dec. 31st. A rose dipped in gold. Not an over the top gift, but from the heart. The girl at the jewelry store felt so bad. She remembered how hard it was for me to get the damn thing in the first place. Plus, come on, I’m a blogger. I don’t have any money, yet. I had to called Mike, an old chef buddy, to cancel the “special” reservations at his overly booked restaurant. “Well, you can still come. Maybe we could get something going on in the kitchen.” Nice idea, I’d like to slinging high dollar hash again. But not right now. Not on that day.

I’d finally stopped crying over the dumbest crap. I was like a women just starting menopause. The smallest thing would set me off. I’d either ball like a bitch or throw something in a rage. Have you ever cried at an insurance commercial? Well, I have. Every song on the radio, and my MP3 player, reminded me of him. How much I loved him. How happy we seemed together. He really hurt me. Yeah there is a softer side to the big BadEvan. Ok, maybe I’m not done crying yet.

Anyway, after splitting, telling friends and family, taking down the pictures, making the depressing mixed-tape I was there. Almost healed. Rational thoughts were taking over. Through this I can focus more on my work, my book, and maybe find a better MAN. Not a boy. Then from the depths of dark irony…he emailed me.

What made this so….”Damn it!” Was that he decide to send this message on V-day. Yep, Valentines day. This prick chooses to reach out to me on the day for lover’s swoon. What could he want? In the back of my mind I wanted it to be me. Telling me how sorry he was. That he still can’t sleep without me. That his heart ached over what he had done. Nope! None of the above. He wanted the last of his stuff back. BASTARD!!!

He also wanted to know how I was doing. If I was feeling alright? How the surgery went? (Yeah, he dumped me exactly one week before my first of 2 surgeries, for Crohn’s disease.) I replied: “You emailed me TODAY, of all days, for your shit back? What are you thinking? Thanks prick! Do you really care how I’m doing? Or are you afraid I’ll fuck up your crap? You don’t get to ask how I’m doing. You made it clear that you have no interest in my well being.” He didn’t understand what the big deal was. I’m not surprised.

After a couple of gut wrenching phone calls, we agreed on a time for the exchange. I didn’t sleep for the next 52 hours. My mind was racing. Panicked over what to say. Would I lose it and cry in front of him? Worse, would I beg him to come back? No! I’m a brash asshole. I wont fold. I wont give him that power over me. At least that’s what I told my self.

When the time came, and he was there in my house, we said nothing. I wanted so badly to grab him, kiss him, tell him how he was hurting me. I didn’t. We loaded his car without even looking each other in the eye. I stood in the drive pretending to just be smoking. I was watching him drive away. This time would be the last.

It was a deep cutting situation. But I’ve licked my wounds and now I’m really starting to recover. I’m closing this chapter of the book. While I’m saying “Good-Bye” to Scotty, I haven’t ruled out love. There will be a time and place when the heavens will grant me an angel. Just not right now. I’m not rushing or even looking for another. I was single for 4 yrs before Scotty. I’m glad it wasn’t 5. The clock stats over.