It's a Mouse World after all . . .

The big bad world is not always the 'Happiest Place on Earth'. But at least there is a place where you can go to be a child again, recharge your 'believe batteries', and remember that dreams can come true. It's also a place to speak your mind and follow your heart. You can still believe in Happily Ever After, but you can also laugh at the follies we create in our daily life.

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Is looking back nostalgia or inviting disaster?



When does looking back move from fond memories to inviting disaster? Are you supposed to be friends with your ex? Are you supposed to like their new 'significant other'? Is looking at old pictures of yourselves reliving fond memories or wallowing in self pity? Are there rules for any of this? I emailed Miss Manners and Dear Abby and so far all I've gotten is a deafening silence. Are we really and truly supposed to listen to everything our friends say, or do we think for ourselves and let the consequences be damned?

By now, anyone who's read this far knows what spawned this blog and about 'he who shall not be named'. To be honest, most of what I've felt about him I've kept to myself and only partly related to this blog. The anger, the mistrust, the despair, the archery lessons, I've all pretty much kept on a low boil when it came to putting it in print. And for a good reason . . . I knew that some day he would stumble across this blog and read it. Despite the fact that it's been cathartic to write and share what's been going on, I didn't want to flame him outright . . . well, OK . . . maybe singe him just a little. But I wanted to keep it civil and humane, despite what he had done to me.

So, we're right back where this started. We've opened a dialog, and are talking again. It started with emails, cards at the holidays, little gifts for Birthdays (we share the same day) and Christmas, and finally . . . being in the same room together! But wait, it gets even better . . . having dinner with him and the man he dumped me for! A cry of outrage was heard when I let that little tidbit drop amongst assorted friends and acquaintances. "How dare he?" "What were you thinking?" "Are you insane?" "You're not thinking about getting back together are you?" "Did you have sex yet?" . . . All these little tidbits and more rained down like Noah's 5 minute warning. Everyone had an opinion and was just dying to share it with me. Let's just say that all the trepidation and self doubt I was feeling in no way shielded me or helped me deal with this deluge. I was alone in the field and the lightning was getting closer. How did I really feel about this? What exactly was I looking for? What was I hoping for? What did I want out of this? Was I really insane?
How the hell should I know?

Maybe I was trying to see if it would bring the closure I needed. That it would wrap up everything in a neat little bow and we could all go one and live happily ever after. Maybe I wanted prove that I was the bigger person (literally) and I could forgive and forget. Maybe I wanted to show that i was sophisticated enough that I could deal with this new wrinkle and welcome them into my life with open arms. Oh, it was all getting to be a little too Noel Coward for my own good! A crazy quilt patchwork of emotions were in play, after all, I was living my life in the now and not in the then. I've moved forward, had life changes, met all these new people, travelled, worn my heart on my sleeve, been shy, demure, and played hard to get. DAMMIT!! . . . My life was moving along and why was I getting grief over it? How come I can't be friends with someone out of my past and not hold against them their actions from a lifetime ago? (OK, 17 months)

Here's another wrinkle to be dealt with. Eight months into my relationship with "HWSNBN" I had to undergo some minor surgery. "HWSNBN" had previously agreed to meet up with his sister and his sister's family in Paris for a vacation. He was torn as to wanting to be here with me for the surgery or honoring his commitment to his sister to help out with the kids. I told him to go, enjoy himself, this trip was already in the works before the surgery came up. He left with a heavy heart, but I really did want him to go, the surgery was nothing big. However, the night before surgery I had an attack of my own mortality and decided to sit down and write out a Will. Along with the will I wrote about a dozen letters to the important people in my life in the event that something did go wrong and I didn't make it successfully out of surgery. Needless to say, all went well and he came back a few days later. There was joy throughout the land and the Will and the Letters were quickly forgotten about and tucked away in a drawer somewhere. Fast forward to Spring Cleaning 2007 and opening that drawer and finding that packet with the Will and Letters. Opening the Will I realized I needed to make some updates and revisions, and maybe taking it to my lawyer would be a good idea. But what to do about the letters? Some I decided to update yearly, that way they would always be current. Some I decided to shred as the recipients were no longer a part of my life or were no longer a part of life itself. Then there was "HWSNBN"s letter. What should I do with that? Should I shred it? Should I open it and read it? Should I give it to him?

In the end I decided to give it to him, explaining that since I did not know where he would be when my end came, I wanted him to know how I felt at that time of my life and that he was an important part once upon a time. I told him to open it, shred it, burn it, or save it for the future . . . the choice was his, I just wanted him to have it.
Of course, since I dropped that bombshell in his lap, there has been a deafening silence.
Our easy email repartee has ceased. Little jokes and 'did you knows?' ended. We (He & the other 1/2 and I) had dinner the other night and it was most awkward and hurried.
Was I wrong to give that to him?
Did I just make one HUGE mistake.
Did I pull a 'Lorelei'?
Was this the equivalent of the 'Luke Letter' that 'Christopher' found?

Where's 'Paul Anka' when you need him?