Yesterday, I wrote about Stupid Face and how I was waiting to hear back from him. ((If you haven’t read it, you’ll probably need to for context for this one.))
This morning, I woke up to a message from him (finally) in which he told me, in a nutshell, that he’s perfectly happy with his work and kids and has no interest in me. Well, happy Friday to you too!
He admitted that he knew his response didn’t address everything that I’d written in my initial message, but he didn’t want to make me wait any longer than the four days I’d already waited. He was honest and I appreciate that, but here’s where I’m disappointed and a little angry: in my message, I said that I needed to know that I meant something more to him than a female body (OK, I may have used slightly more blunt phrases), that my anxiety about that was due to some insecurities that I am trying to get over, and what he CHOSE to do is send me a long explanation of why he doesn’t want or need me for anything. It wasn’t outright meanness, but I know thinly veiled diplomacy when I see it. No attempt at all to say that he had valued me, and that stung.
I’d asked BobbyJeff what the next level was after “stupid,” suggesting maybe “dumbass.” He agreed, then offered that the level after that was “double dumbass.”
Dear readers, Double Dumbass it is!
Only, this time, it’s a shared title. I’m a dumbass for thinking that this time it was different, for putting up with things that bothered me for too long, and, once again, for falling for exactly the kind of guy who who is my own personal bug zapper, drawing me in and then by the time I know it’s a bad idea, I’m a goner.
He’s the bigger dumbass, though. He had a good thing and didn’t know it. I’m not perfect, and I’ll never be on the cover of a magazine, but I’m not exactly a troll either. I’m a far better person than I give myself credit for most days. It’s his loss.
I spent the morning crying more than I should, took a nap to get rid of the crying-induced headache, then ate some cappuccino gelato and pizza while watching Clueless and Varsity Blues.
All day long, my tribe of friends checked in on me. They listened, were outraged and hurt for me, mourned with me, and prayed for me. BobbyJeff had posted a status in the Facebook group we moderate asking for prayers for half of the admin team because two of the four of us were having super bad days. Without knowing which admins to pray for or what the circumstances are, people from Iowa to Australia and back were praying for me. Good grief, do I love my tribe.
Let me say, finally, that today was also a reminder of how big God’s grace is. This morning, when I was hurting, I called God an awfully nasty name and said that we probably weren’t going to be on very good speaking terms for a while. The only response I felt was “OK.” Then my tribe prayed. Without knowing it was partially for me, without knowing what my need was. They prayed. And since they were on better speaking terms, God listened. And God answered. I don’t think that the peace that settled in tonight was because God had forgotten what I said this morning. I think it’s because God honors the prayers of those who do pray with sincerity and hope, and it was because of them that the peace I have is going to let me sleep tonight, sped up the getting-over-him process, and restores the rational thought that life goes on and love isn’t through with me yet.