Curious

Last night, I was clicking on random blogs from my buddies’ blog rolls, and I found one that just smacked me upside the head.  The newest post was one that I could have written, if I were a better writer.  It was this.  Go ahead and read it, I’ll still be here when you get back.  Do de do de dooooo, la la laaa la la.  Back?  Isn’t that amazing?  So true and so well-written, and so in sync with what I’ve been dealing with in my own head and heart.  I was just completely blown away by it, and very glad that I stumbled upon it.

For the first time in a very long time, I dreamed about Douche.  In all my dreams of him since the split, we have always been fighting, arguing, screaming at each other.  More often than not, his new wife is there, too – two against one.  This one was different.  He was in his desert uniform, laying on a hospital bed, with bandages around the top of his head and his arm.  New wifey was nowhere around, no one was, and he was looking to me for comfort.  I didn’t know what to do.  I wanted to help him, I wanted to make him feel better, but I remembered what he’d done to me.  That’s when I woke up. 

I was completely unsettled by this dream, because he IS in a war zone, and the boys haven’t heard from him since father’s day.  We are totally out of the loop as far as updates go, his parents and wife don’t let us know what’s going on with him.  It’s strange to have spent so much of my life with someone and not know anything about him anymore.  If something like this were to happen to him, I know what I would do in real life.  Of course, I would be there for him, just…cautiously. 

This morning, I had an email from Lord Swank.  Remember him?  If you don’t, this will jog your memory.  As with all of my so-called relationships since the divorce, things started off great, and ended with him beoming distant.  I don’t even know how to describe the way things ended, because there really wasn’t an ending.  We just stopped talking.  I don’t think I’ve said boo to him since January.  Anyway, the message said that he saw me the other night at the Hall of Fame thing, that I looked amazing, and he hoped I was doing ok.  He also said that he was sorry for letting me down, that I had been a true friend to himand that he had a lot of things he wanted to say to me.  Curious.

This makes me angry for a few reasons.  One is that (HELLOOOO) why is it that the guys I date only realize how great I am (because, fuck yeah, I’m fuckin’ amazing) after they’ve decided I’m not what they’re looking for?  They’re “scared of their emotions,” blah, blah, blah.  GRRRRR.  This isn’t just a one-time phenomenon.  Are men just that pussy-fied?  Really?! 

Bah, this post is all over the place, and it’s taken me a while to write, because I keep getting interrupted.  I guess my question is, why does this happen?  How do I keep it from happening again?  Fucking men.