Disclaimer: this is going to rambly and long and emotional.

Alright so that little John Mayer video I posted down there has generated some “who is that video aimed toward?! What aren’t you telling us!?” questions. I thought that might happen but the mood was calling me too strongly not to just post it. I try to keep this blog from getting too maudlin but sometimes it is just unavoidable.

It all started Tuesday morning while I was getting ready for work. I like to play my itunes on shuffle while I convince myself to wake up, in an effort to keep me from going back to sleep. While I was in the bathroom Otis Redding’s These Arms of Mine had started to play. Normally I skip right over this song, I’m not sure why I haven’t deleted it out of my itunes all together. It is still way to painful to hear. It reminds me of Pat.

I’d been thinking of him a little lately. Every time I walk down the streets of Seattle alone, sign up for something extra at work, attempt to network, I think of him. I think about how he’d be so proud of me for actually doing this. For being brave enough to do this. And in a way, I don’t think I would have ever done this if we had still been together. I had started to rely on him to do the scary stuff, to be the “brave one.” Truth be told, and I really don’t mean this in a malicious way, I think he liked being my cheerleader. It was exciting to say “sweetheart you would be great at that!” If you’re lucky enough to be counted as one of Pat’s close friends you’ll know he can be extremely supportive, and does genuinely find pleasure in others success (not as much as his own but really that’s everyone)

Anyway the point is this. Anytime I’ve felt nervous, or scared, or alone so far on this journey I’ve thought of him. I think about how adventure and experiences are good. Its helped me to understand (a little, not a lot) why we couldn’t be together anymore. Why he thought he couldn’t “give me what I wanted.” In reality he could have. You can “do” most anything you set you mind to, its a matter of motivation and desire. And at this point in the story his desires live in the realm of his career and that trumps everything.

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My main boss at the theater practically never leaves. She is so dedicated to the job and the theater, she works crazy hours and devotes so much of her time and attention to it. Months ago she was invited to her mother in law’s 80th birthday party gathering in Utah. Because attending would mean traveling away from the theater in the summer (one of their most busy times) she kept putting off RSVP-ing. Yesterday morning she went downstairs for her coffee where she found her husband sitting with a steaming mug of caffeine, “here’s your coffee,” he said, “I bought us plane tickets to Utah, we’re going. I love you. Have a good day.”

And that my friends is what it takes. Hearing her tell this story at the staff meeting today gives me hope. She smiled as she told it and you could just tell that however much she loves this theater she loves her husband more.

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After hearing our song Tuesday morning I saw Pat’s doppelganger on the bus. Same clothes, same beard, (nicer glasses, Pat if you are by chance reading this I have figured out exactly what kind of frames you need to get if you ever find yourself able to part with enough cash to buy them), Their heads were even shaped the same. It was truly uncanny. I saw him again on the way home from work. I decided it was a good omen and I walked home feeling the weirdest mixture of happy and sad.

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“Do you miss your ex?” read the text message from lettuce boy (who is trying very hard to keep in contact though now that I’m here I’m losing interest by the day.)

It was such a hard question to answer in less than 160 characters.

I finally settled on: “I miss having a significant other, but I don’t really miss him.”

And that was a lie. Sure there are qualities about him and our relationship that were ridiculous and why we put up with them for so long I’ll never know, but I really did/do/probably always will love him. And though I’ve posted contrary things previously on this blog…I know he did too. I do miss him.

Its been almost 5 months and I still feel the urge to call him. To send him links to cute things I find on the internet. To make him a mix cd. God, I’m getting a lump in my throat just typing this.

I keep wanting to reach out, to rekindle the friendship that started this all but I’m paralyzed by fear that I’ll undo this magical almost zen-like acceptance I’ve found when it comes to “Pat and Sarah” no longer existing.

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Its been a weird month for me. A lot of flames have been lighting around me. Some old, some new. Seemingly all at once and conveniently while I’m miles and miles away from most of them. It must have something to do with astrology but I swear when it comes to guys and me….when it rains it pours.

Most of it is all for naught, because I’m still too shell-shocked from the implosion of my first real relationship. The loss of my first real love. I try to explain this to guys, that I’m not looking for anything serious (actively I mean, if Mr. Right came along tomorrow I wouldn’t cast him aside, satisfied Doc?!) and most of them are happy to hear that because as per usual they aren’t looking for anything serious. I’m also fully aware that I’m being horrible right now, in that I don’t want guys to be mushy or romantic with me (because it reminds me/allows me to compare them with Pat) but at the same time if they treat me like a person who is only good for…well one thing I get offended. Yet another reason I shouldn’t be back in the game. But yet I’ve found seeing other guys, no matter how successful or unsuccessful, a major tool in my recovery.

Oh look internet I’ve managed to make a breakup sound like an injury or some kind of cancer. Bet you’re proud!

I’m going to stop the rambling while I’m ahead (too late you say, yeah yeah I know.)

I guess the point is that I’ve reached this new strange point in my single-hood. I’m sad but I’m happy. I’m free but I’m stuck.

I would be free when he wanted me, if he wanted me.

If he penciled me in, I’d be there.