like a carly simon song

Last night, I'm making dinner, microwaving a sweet potato, minding my own business, when it happened. Mr. November called.

He'd read my post, about my box-of-wine level anxiety, and I guess felt like enough time had passed. And so he called. And I was totally, completely unprepared. I think I spent the first five minutes of the conversation stuttering, although I was also handling a piping-hot potato at the time, so my focus was a bit scattered.

Anywho. I don't know what I expected him to say, honestly. I don't think you ever do in those kinds of situations, but I just knew I needed to talk to him. And so when he called not only did I have no idea what needed to come out of MY mouth, I hadn't the slightest clue what was about to come out of his. Of course that lack of expectation did not keep me from being pretty surprised by just about all of it.

A lot of our conversation felt like a lecture, one oddly devoid of emotion. A lot of it made me feel pretty insignificant -- and maybe I deserved to feel that way, I accept that. At some point in the call I arrived at the realization that my biggest concern, my principal reason for wanting to talk to him, had been my worry that I had lost him from my life completely, even outside of the romantic. And I do still feel that way, but by the time we got off the phone last night I knew that there would need to be some time between now and friendship.

What actually scared me about the conversation was that after it was done, the way I felt and some of the things he'd said resonated with me in a way that was eerily reminiscent of He Who Shall Not Be Named (Boyfriend No. 4 from the exit interviews). And I realized that there had been flashes of that before now, before Saturday. When I felt small and unimportant. And I'm not placing that blame on Mr. November, nor could I identify anything he did or said to make me feel that way. It's an intangible. And I'm sure a lot of it has to do with my own self concept and the insides of my own brain. But it worries me to think that that is what I'm attracted to. That the very thing that has hurt me so much in the past is magnetic to me.

Well, that's just about enough of that, y'all. Maybe if I tell you that I'm going to stop thinking about this, I actually will! Wishful thinking, but a girl can dream. I do have plans Friday night and a friend coming in from New York on Saturday, so there will be lots of opportunities to get in more trouble and I promise to bring you all the gory details.

As soon as I come to.


cheers!
elizabeth