Five Stages

How quickly can one go through the five stages of grief? Because I'm pretty sure I'm hitting a new record.

I think Mr. Zips and I have broken up. I'm not sure. I might be sure, except he left tonight in order to avoid confrontation and then had to hang up before we resolved things because his phone was dying in a technological mirror of passive aggressiveness. (See - this is anger.)

He said we had to talk. Work some things out/through. This is something I've known for awhile. But why on Earth he would bring this up the day I flew back from a really long trip away is beyond me.

I've spent the evening sobbing hysterically, getting sick, making bargains with myself and The Universe, obsessively calling him, and basically falling apart. Oh yeah, and drinking bourbon. Tomorrow's gonna be fun at work.

I'm not sure whether the ignition for this particular discussion was the talk he had w/ his friend Dentist Boy the other night (funny how every time they see each other, Mr. Zips and I have to have a "discussion"...) or the fact that I texted him from the airport. I was killing time and thought it might be nice to send him a postcard. Unfortunately, his address was written down in my planner, which was in my suitcase, which was somewhere between NWA check-in and cargo hold. So, I texted. "19 Street Name, Holyoke?" I was off by 7 digits. This makes me a bad girlfriend. Never mind that I am still sending birthday gifts to my BESTEST friend in the world somewhere around Halloween b/c I can't remember her exact birthday and I'm too ashamed to ask or the fact that I can't for the life of me remember the last name of my Aunt Susan and Uncle Bob w/ whom I had a fabulous dinner on Saturday. But not knowing the exact street number of my boyfriend - that's breakup fodder.

OK - so maybe I haven't progressed through the stages yet. Maybe I'm stuck on anger.

All this said - all night long all I've been able to think about is how funny Mr. Zips is, and how caring. And how he'll bend over backwards to be nice to you. And how much I really, truly, and honestly, love him. And how much it sucks that, in the grand scheme of things, that might not always amount to much.

I have no idea what I'm going to do or how I'm going to sleep tonight in the same bed that he's slept in the last four nights.

For fuck's sake - being in love really REALLy fucking sucks.