Who Needs to Move On?

"Git yer own may-an"
That's the message I got from a caller who chose to brilliantly mark her two 5 am calls as private.

I know who you are; it doesn't take a genius... but it does take someone smarter than you to figure out the following:

(The logic should flow, so following along should not be too hard)

1. Either you or your man talk shit about me on my website.
2. This is infuriating since I have no interest in talking to either of you (Reference the entry from New Year's Eve) and have not contacted you, per your request. This is despite the fact that I am great friends with the other two adult romances that eventually ended: Namoli and Arizona Chris.
3. Part of the infuriation is that you seem to continue to think I want your "may-an" (watch that Southern Illinois twang, honey; it's a target for me when you do something like this morning's stunt that really pisses me off).
Last week, my friend Wendy and I were emailing and she asked me who I want to meet, I answered, "Someone truly open-minded, obviously; somewhat of an intellectual; a little quiet; not weirded out by me being an active yogi AND a rollergirl; someone who's not judgmental about my lack of a nice apartment; no kids; someone who gets that women are remarkable but not in a patronizing way - a third wave feminist with a unit, if you will. Someone who's confident enough to kick back and have fun, who parties once in awhile but not all weekend, every weekend, good teeth, someone a little more outgoing than me, and someone who's ready to really be in a relationship."
That's pretty much the antithesis of your may-an.

Hopefully thatís changed and heís a little bit of a different guy with you because nothing in that describes him from when he was in love with me.

Oh snap.
Yes I did go there. Iíve had it with your high school antics. Donít contact my boyfriend again?
Not a problem.
Who contacted whom?
Who wrote something nasty and untrue, without provocation last week?

You're well over thirty, just like me. If you feel threatened by someone who lives half-way across the country and who was in your may-an's life years ago, then you need to talk to him or be a goddamn grown-up and talk to me about your insecurities.

Your other choice is to let those hang-ups eat you and your relationship.

A little story for you: Arizona Chris? Bad break-up - he fell in l-o-v-e, hard, and I got left cold. It sucked ass. We both did very mean things, some of which may or may not have involved Johnny Law being called.
Fast forward four years, give or take.
"You've been on my mind!"
"Arizona Chris, it's funny you should say that! I just read this book, Cowboys Are My Weakness, and it reminded me of you!"
Time passed and as grown-ups, we get to enjoy catching up and look back at what dumbass kids we were to think we loved each other enough to move to a trailer in Tucson, Arizona. We can talk openly about how we didn't so much love each other like THAT as we needed each other to get to someplace better in life.
Our current friendship in no way suggests that either of us wants to be romantic, trust me.
Talking to each other and catching up on the family gossip doesnít even come close to wanting to be with him, just like talking about Rakers doesnít even come close to me wanting to be with him.

Thereís an ocean between nostalgia and being hung up; luckily, Iím a very good swimmer with a preternatural sense of direction.

You, on the other hand, seem to be drowning and I have zero interest in doing anything that might help. You are your own responsibility, not mine. You chose to go swimming on that particular beach and now you need to grow up and deal with the currents that I am navigating just fine, all on my own.

You bring things on yourself with your insecurities and your emotional immaturity. I get to say that because I went deep and figured out every painful inch of what I needed to learn about myself before I could be an authentic and righteous person. I get to say things and do things, buy things and wear things in any way I want to because I did the work to own my confidence and I trust that my intentions feed the higher good. I don't have to explain myself or my actions and when I run into people who seem to need that, I'm sure don't waste a whole bunch of time feeling bad that I might be bugging them. I do my best all the time - do you?

Clearly, you've got to get a grip. A big strong grip on YOURSELF, not on your may-an, and not on me. You need to seriously sit yourself down and find out what it really is that causes you to let loose nasty comments and "private" phone calls that don't do shit but get me angry. That anger makes me have to resist every urge to go for the gusto right now and expose every insecurity that I think you have.

Mostly though, your messages don't do anything to me because I don't want your may-an. I donít want your town, I donít want your friends, and I donít want your emotional throw-up on my website or in my voicemail. If you were capable of figuring out what you want to say and then calling me or writing me and saying it in an unfoolish and undefensive way then maybe you would stop feeling so shitty about yourself and understand what Iím trying to say to you; understand that your may-an is not my dreamboat.

Hell, you would probably understand that I donít even particularly want to ďgitĒ a ďmay-anĒ. ďGitting a may-anĒ isn't my goal in life. A may-an is not how I define my self worth or my happiness. A may-an is a partner and a friend who fits in with me; heís not something that I have to go out, find, and force feed into my life by building a boyfriend or holding on for years while my Boyfriend/Sea Monkey gets beating up his friends and drinking before work in the morning out of his system. You would understand that Iím not like those Springfield girls.

I never was and I never want to be and you would understand that I viciously love my life Ė rollerderby, my dog, Anusara yoga, Namoli, Wendy, Arizona Chris, Sunflower market, my job, Antigone Books, my Bitchiní Honda, saying goodnght to Chelsea before she goes to bed almost every night, Girlís Gotta Eat, Anna, Michael, his girls, Epic, Hotel Congress, Kirtan, Buffalo Exchange, wearing flip-flops 11 months a year, seeing the sun EVERY day, seeing the stars EVERY night, driving in the desert, and listening to KXCI. Except for my dog, the things I love the most canít be replicated in the life you think I want to steal from you.

And Iím not giving up the things I love the most about my life so that I can go steal something from you that was unsafe and unhealthy for me and for Steve.
What I do want is some goddamn peace but in the face of your laughable comments and your bullshit, cowardly message, that peace is a little elusive for me lately.

Hereís the fact, Kathy. Your boyfriend and I? We used to be in love a long time ago. Weíve talked since then. Briefly and not since last year, I think. But we talked when you met, and weíve run down the major events of life since then. It's not emotional, it's not deep, it's friendship with someone that shares a mutually huge history with me.
You know why?
Because thatís what grown-ups do.

The problem here is you.

You have a problem with me or you have a problem with the fact that me and Steve? We have history and not in a one-month fling kind of way. Youíre not 23 and you canít own his history. Youíre an adult and you have got to realize that as an adult, your boyfriend has probably been in love before. As an adult, your boyfriend can probably figure out why he wants to be with you and you should trust that he wants to be with you. Just because you are not capable of understanding that does not give you the right to make it my problem by purposely trying to be hurtful through the use of posted witticism that makes you sound 12 years old and messages that make you sound hill-billy.

Youíre the one who needs to move on.

arizonasarah at 7:52 a.m.

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