Up until two weeks ago I had a picture sitting on my desk that was taken at Aimee and Allen's wedding. Patrick and I are alone on the dance floor, looking deeply into each other's eyes. I remember him looking at me with such love I could hardly bear it. But the feeling of wanting to be with me went away for him, and he doesn't know where it went. He says he thinks we're too different to make the relationship work, that he doesn't want to work on it anymore, that he needs to be single right now. And so.

While he was coming to his final decision, we took two weeks where we didn't see each other, didn't call each other, sent one or two terse emails that were strictly business. It was the longest I'd gone without contacting him in four years. Even when I'm in London I call him every other day. It was a hell unlike any I've ever experienced before, and I'm never doing it again. Next time someone says they want a break, I'm saying fuck that let's just break up. It really wasn't worth the two weeks of excruciating torment just to hear at the end of it he didn't want to be with me anyway.

He did miss me. He does still consider me a dear friend, and I him. When I see him now things feel good, a touch wistful perhaps. The physical component has been taken away, and that had been virtually nonexistent for a long time anyway. I feel good that he doesn't have to deal with my neuroses and psycho mood swings anymore.

Nevertheless I feel like the rug has been yanked out from under me. Right before bed is the worst time of day, and happy memories are the most painful. My faith in love is at an all-time low.

None of this is new to anyone who has ever suffered from a broken heart. I seem to recall that I have felt this way before, and that healing does occur after a long period of time. My friends keep telling me that there is someone out there who will treat me like I deserve to be treated, who will love me dorky traits and all, and who will do it for me like Patrick does it for me. Here's hoping. In the meantime, I lean on my friends and try to keep myself busy.

Cue Billie Ray Martin, "Deadline for My Memories". Don't play Ani DiFranco's "Joyful Girl".

happier times