The Unopened Email

After sending that email last night, with my heart in my throat (Mmm! Bursting with Heart flavor!) I felt prepared to breathe for a few days. My response to HIM - THE guy that I sent the apology to after five years, was only sent last night. He wouldn't write back too fast. I can just relax and think, what's done is done.

Until I open my inbox today and see his name.

I can't open it. I have dinner in front of me. I don't want it ON me if his email says something that will tip my balance of well being. Anyone who knows my nervous system knows to remove all visuals and odors of edibles when I am nervously distraught. With the exception of lollipops, hard candies and peppermints.

It's like Russian Roulette Christmas. The anticipation of opening the present! But knowing that what's in the box is either 90% going to kill you or 10% be that decapitated Barbie styling hair head that rolls up without a body that you wanted. And if you're a guy reading this....you know they fascinated you too.

I was fully prepared to never ever hear from him or have a stray wisp of his hair blow anywhere in my compassed direction. But he did write. And I wrote back. BUT MINE TOOK OVER A DAY TO COMPOSE.

Now this....unread email sits there. It took less than 24 hours for him to reply.

Again, I stick the wand into the bubbles, pull it out, blow some good ones and then catch one of them on my skin. And it hasn't popped. While I'm waiting for the minor shock and splat of soap in my eyes, I'm staring at it for as long as it will exist and again, the time has stopped.

I wasn't prepared for a response to begin with, nevermind a second one. In my cartoonish imagination I imagine opening it and in 24 pt font it bitch slaps me with a polite *Thanks* and then *don't contact me anymore*. In my not wanted fantasy, there is a sound bite attached to the email that knows when I've read the last word and then plays the sound of the Yahoo IM Door closing. Crreeeeak. KaPlunk.

Well, what do I want him to do? Mapquest me and knock on my door? (Hellllll no - bad hair and roots day).

While I torture myself with the actual opening moment of the email (I will probably put an ad in the local paper - "The Grand Opening of So and So's Email! Get a free keychain!"), I will check the time for the Results show for Idol (America does love Double D's after all and so do I) and base it somewhere around there. Before? So that I can take my mind off it by watching the David's cry? After? So that I can read it and have no distractions? Should I put Lifehouse on while reading it in order to raise the drama ratings?

I'm going to think positive. I put too much thought into all of this for the last few years to just be a one woman show, acting out his parts as well as mine.

Deep breath! Time to check the time to see if we have time to stalk our local librarians or not before all of this goes down.

It Never Hurts To Admit You Were a Chump

After my reminescent spilling of how I had a great relationship many years ago and then flicked it into the bin without even checking to see if it made it in or not....I came to a decision. I decided that I should send a letter of apology to that person.

Mind you, he was the love of my life, and I haven't spoken to him in about 5 years.

I knew years ago, that I would eventually need to give him the courtesy of an apology. He did deserve it.

I stalked his job (via phone....I don't have time to go on actual stalking rampages...especially with Humanling in tow telling me she's hungry or tired or has to use the bathroom NOW) and found his place of employment. I wrote him a five page letter, double-sided, and mailed it off expecting to never ever hear from him again.

But I resolved within myself that it was okay. That the apology itself is what needed to happen and nothing more. That didn't stop me from leaving a contact email.....you know, just in case.

The stock in my emotion of 'suprise' hit the jackpot when I checked my email today and found Said person on there. With a response. Without a restraining order, expletives or slamming a proverbial door in my face.

I still don't know how I feel. It was one thing when I imagined that he would never respond. I accepted that. But now....

Now I'm in the precise moment where the butterfly lands on your arm and you don't want to move.

So I haven't stepped out of this moment yet. I don't know if I'm being dared to move.

But I will say this, whatever happens, there is something that stood out in my mind prior to sending this letter to right my perceived wrongs. A fellow blogger, Alan, said to me that True love is right there IF I want it. And I believe him. Our cards may be spent in this casino, but who knows...maybe they started recycling a bit.