So. It’s been a week of colossal disappointment.
First, we had a family party last weekend. Nobody said a word about anything, but I’ve never felt more like a stranger than in spending what felt like a very awkward hour with my relatives. Why? Perhaps word of my my romantic proclivities has spread; I know the idea is not well-received, despite my not having said anything directly to any of them. Oh, everyone was perfectly civil. Civil. Merely civil.
Second, I lost a bid on a great boat — a Cal 27 — by a mere $50. The vessel was in great condition, had everything I was looking for, and was ready to go, waiting peacefully at Long Island Sound. But I got beat by a bidder who submitted at exactly one minute before the auction closed. So much for getting my hopes up.
Third, I got an e-mail from Dave today, telling me he was breaking up with me. We spoke by phone, later. I understand his reasons, and our conversation was amicable. I keep telling myself that it was only a month, but it’s not much help. I usually don’t feel comfortable with people like I did with him, and I’m not especially eager to go on the hunt despite my desire to not be alone anymore. He’s a great guy, and I wish him the very best.
What’s next? I’m not sure. I had some reassuring words from Andrew, Duane, and Emilie as I walked home from the hospital.
My natural tendency is to withdraw, perhaps sulk a bit, and wallow in self-pity. Part of me wants to take the day off tomorrow and just be alone. Another part of me is angry at where I’m at (or not at) in life and wants to kick ass, take numbers, and come out on top. I just wish I had the energy for it. I’m so damn tired, all the time, and for a long while now it’s felt like I’m running on fumes. And after this week … I just don’t know what I’m going to do next.