The Long And Short Of It in Him

UGH…I don’t understand it.
We said goodbye.
We’ve had time apart.
WHY am I sweating this?
Why sweat this?
Is the meaning that I’m still in love with him?
He’s more inappropriate than I am, so does he love me?
I don’t want to be still in love with Him.

So we are for lack of a better term, “friends”.

We have gone a very long time without texting, talking, calling.
I may have a question and I will ask on some purely innocent stuff, but when he reaches back out, it’s usually a call or an inbox somewhere. Unless totally innocent, he won’t text.

Perhaps the wife is going through his phone these days? I really don’t know.

Whenever he reaches out via social media inboxes…
Matter of fact: Instagram.
This conversation wasn’t innuendo. He was openly saying the things he loved about me.
My smile, my hair, my wit. I think I chronicled this somewhere. I tried to keep it on the right side. I don’t want to be party to his indiscretion anymore, or rather again. (we were still sleeping together until about a month before he got married.)

When he decided to propose to her, I had to let him go. It was hard and I think I’ve managed just fine. I’m willing and open to see other people, but I’ve set such a standard…

So yesterday…he knows I love lots of things Dragonball and Dragonball Z. so when he sees things he puts them in my inbox. He could easily just tag me but he doesn’t. This generates conversation from me on how dope it is or in this case how it made me smile.

“I like making you smile. I’m good with this.”
I misread this as him being good at making me smile, but used it as an opportunity to veer away from where it could go.

“When you’re not being difficult, yeah. You are. lol”

a bit of time elapsed and decided to talk to him because that’s how we were; no bs

Me: “What’s up with you? How’s things?”
Him: “I really wish things were easier. I’m blessed though. Grateful…”
Me: “What’s the matter?”
Him: “We’ll discuss. Sleep time…”
Me: “Sure…“

Previous two conversations revolved around “our song” (Never Gonna Give You Up) in conjunction with the whole Yanny/Laurel debate. The other, he came across a folder where he once stored pictures of me. He’d been going through them and reminiscing on them and deleting. I’ve done this, except they were emails. I do still keep a couple of shots of us from my 40th birthday weekend when we ended up at the same concert.

At any rate, I told him it was good that he deleted them. We had a couple of jokes and he suggested we go for a drink. My response, “Sure.”

Have no clue if or when that will ever happen.
I probably shouldn’t participate.
Me and my never ending fascination with rabbit holes.

And now I’m here. Here trying to think of all the times he was a jerk, of all the things he’s done to make me say I dodged a bullet, thinking maybe perhaps all I do miss is the way we made love.

He understood my brief depression and hollowness I felt when Prince died and didn’t make fun of me.

I just wish he’d just say what is on his mind.
Then again, I ought to be careful what I wish for.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK