So I wrote a message to an old boyfriend... I "inherited" him from my best friend... who kept insisting he was perfect for me. Eventually met him, spent a crazy week with him, going home only for clean clothes. Now, decades later... He's there (and married) and I'm here (single, but quite involved). and the Facebook message that didn't get sent read:
"I hope you (plural-- and Rebecca and your mother) are doing well.
Life here has become delightful and interesting. I'm in love and haven't felt this way since I met you... heck... this is actually hotter and crazier than when I met you. "
I guess that's why I'm thinking about you... Remembering the good times. --- and hoping that you've found good times too. "
I can't send that message. It says too much.. and not enough.. And worse, it could be read as a "come hither" by his wife. There were good times. And my goal is to remember them-- not to recreate them... because there are different and better experiences out there for me.
Lately, I've been hinting at too much in real life. I need to wipe the smile off my face, and act normal... People aren't supposed to be this happy...
There's a fire door between my office and administration... and frequently, on my way through it, I'll jump and tap the door number (a small plate at the top of the frame). Lately it seems I can just fly up there..... I've started tapping the wall above the plate. I guess flying is easier when I'm happy. Okay, maybe it is stronger legs...
Okay, that seems a silly thing to do... but I'm only 5'0" so it's the equivalent of a slam dunk. And it allows me to connect with a bit of joy and silliness in the middle of a serious, boring day. I'd tell you how wonderful my life is... but I'm not sure I believe it right now. Each conversation reveals new and interesting nuances of caring and happiness. And while I focus on work during the week, I find time for some fun...
There are many deleted, undelivered messages. Most are best unsaid...
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