Part Three: Big Girl Panties/You Let It Go

She wants to say she never believed him, that she only wanted to. That she'd known better, when he'd whispered 'I love you' and slipped inside her. She wants to wish away those nights they'd fallen asleep next to one another, those long car rides home, her head on his shoulder. To burn the snapshots from her retinas; steering wheels and headlights, you and me under those same stars.

More importantly, she wants to know when. When loving her turned into that lesser artistic representation he always strove to avoid. In the end, when you pressed your hands against my flesh, did you even see me or the woman you wished I was?

And why. Always, why. Why he'd pulled her through the loops and verses of everyday living, knowing he'd already replaced her in every way but one. I couldn't have loved you better.

As if he knows she's gone rather suddenly blank, he rushes to her rescue. In some dim, distant part of her brain, she's grateful that he's still capable of reading her mind, her cues. Even if he's forsaken the right to do so. "It wasn't you. You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't stop, and I didn't go looking. It happened, and I made a choice."

The right choice. She doesn't need to read his mind to hear the unspoken words. Whatever vestige of love he has left for her, entirely eclipsed by the woman who'd stolen him away. What do you do with love like that?

You let it go. You pour a drink. And tomorrow, you begin a life with no restraints on your heart.

So I'm sitting here, snuggled by myself in my warm bed, watching DVDs and painting my nails, sipping on some extra sweet Chardonnay. Raise your glass with me tonight world! Elle put on her big girl panties and decided to let go.

Part One: You Have One New Voice Message

"Dear you. I know it's been awhile since we last talked. I'm sorry girl. Coffee, to make it up to you? The usual spot, the usual time. Love, me."

On its fifth replay, she finds the message no less confusing than the first. In fact, with each looped playback she's washed further from the shores of sanity - first through last, some new digitized detail emerging from the embers of her memory. His affectionate inflections, the familiarity of his colloquialisms. By the seventh time through, she stalls repeatedly on the message's end: did that 'love' carry the same weight it once did, or is she imagining things that aren't there?

She could just pretend to have never gotten the message. Reject his peace offering in silence and get out of whatever he has planned by way of 'making it up to her'. There's an charming unfussiness to dodging people, and ignorance; he can't hold her responsible, if she doesn't know. But even as she ponders the option, she knows it isn't one. While he's moved on to his happily ever after *with his little Energizer Slutbunny * she's no further away from him than she's ever been. Still stuck evaluating the importance of his proposed meeting place, and time: regretful amusement, or incisive undertone? How much was he trying to say?

It was my ex. My serious serious ex.

"So You Had a Bad Day .... "

So you know when you're going through some life-changing relationship liason, broken hearted and pessimistic about everything, very Ne-YO "So Sick" without the power to actually turn off the radio? Well that was today. It's like my heart was waiting on the corner of the street, and a car flew by and covered it with mud. And then a loving couple is holding hands in front of me and I'm running to my next class with a broken heel and my morning perk-up spilled all over my new creme colored blouse.

You're all invited to my pity party. No streamers, no balloons, no delicious diet-breaking cake or chocolate waterfall. I know it's time for a change in my life, I want to make it, I see the "signs" in me.



Within the past year or so I have been making monumental mistakes, acting purely on vodka or insecurity. People I know have lost respect for me, I am losing respect for me. And that is what is killing me. I have held my head proud and because of what I know is on the inside, I can wake up one more day. Not anymore. I can hear your advice "It doesn't matter what people think, if you know inside what you are, it doesn't matter what anyone else says." But none of that rings true to me. It is simply hovering on the surface with all the rest of the advice that is so easily given but rarely taken.

"We all make mistakes." "If they believe a conclusion like that without even knowing the facts, they aren't worth your time."

But we have all been on the other side, bashing the best of us who have made "big mistakes". We hear about someone's reputation and think "Yea, she's trash - I heard that she ..." or "People like that never change, that girl..." Well, Now I'm THAT GIRL.

What happens when suddenly I am finding myself defined by the opinions of others? I've lost friends, boyfriends and even potential boyfriends (after the fact) because of the reputation I have created for myself in collaboration with the spin on things the grapevine always provides (Remember the Telephone Game in elementary school?)

Something more painful and overwhelming is that I am disgusted with the author of this very post, ashamed of the very feelings I feel, completely uninspired and feeling like I've got nothing.

Mistakes. We are supposed to get past them. It's not a mistake if you learn from it. My mistakes turned my entire world around, and I'm left kneeling on the ground with the pieces scattered around me. These broken relationships, the good reputation that I had that is now rubble, all a dark reminder of the consequences of my actions.

I'm still resisting accepting that when things are broken, sometimes they can't be fixed. I'm still baffled by the idea that no matter how genuine my apologies and attempts are to mend wounds, it will never be enough.

Everyday I let myself sink deeper into this ominous "funk" that I know if my friend were going through I would be maniacally concerned. Ice cream and shoe shopping doesn't fix this pain when I'm about to fall asleep. I feel desperate, out of control.

No time for details

No time for details. My heart is shattered. Mr. Tattoo's is gone and I am scared to death of being alone these days - no - any day. Where do I go now? What do I do? This isn't rhetorical. I need answers.

He loves me. But he's not in love with me anymore. What?

Take Your Girlfriends' Advice

The process of self discovery that women force themselves to face after an inevitable bleak patch of in their love life seems twisted and a little cowardly when you truly analyze what is at hand. What happens when a man breaks and shatters our best friend’s heart into a thousand bleeding pieces and we are left there with a box of tissues? (if they’re my friends a pack of Marb Menthol Lights and a bottle of Sangria) We tell them he’s an asshole. He’s an ungreatful blind bastard who is missing the best damn thing in the world and it is all his loss. How could he possibly give up a thing like you? He’s crazy?

Well let’s start this at the root of it all. Although as females we are bred to believe that every man is ungreatful and selfish and so shallow and peanut-brained that he cannot process an ounce of actual common knowledge, the necessity for romanticism or the importance of honesty—there are normal guys out there who break up with women for a reason. They’ve found something better, you’re not his type, you’re too boring, too wild, too absorbed in your job, maybe you could be the one but you’re not right now. All of these things can be legitimate, it doesn’t mean you yourself are a bad person, but you are not “right” for his life.

I am teaching myself and discovering slowly, painfully but surely that my life will go on without this man I invested my entire life into. I cannot blame myself for him leaving me, I shouldn’t try and change myself, and more importantly I don’t think I should get discouraged about love.

But what did I do wrong? Nothing!! I devoted every beat of my heart to this man. I love you but I’m not in love with you…. I found someone else…. I’m sorry.

No – Buddy – I am sorry… for even thinking you were the one. But – that doesn’t change how I feel, how it kills me to see you with her and know that she will never love you like me and eventually you’ll see that and I will be gone.

Why is it that I know all the right answers to tell my best girlfriend when some jerk toys with her feelings? Why can’t I convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with me, and there is someone right for me out there. I know, same sob story every broken hearted woman thinks to herself when she’s driving, eating, showering, working, working out, SLEEPING!

Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou you jerk!