i suppose i have been spoiled by all of my ex-lovers. my first lover spoiled me with wonderful physical love, while my third lover provided me with emotional love of which i have never found an equal. and my second lover, he spoiled me by teaching me the delights of destructive love. i say lover because i don't like using the term 'boyfriend', because it can also be applied to a boy who also happens to be a friend. 'lover' implies that their role in my life was to have loved me, not befriended me. i also like using the term because i have difficulty maintaining friendships with anyone. needless to say, i am not friends with ex #1 or ex #2. i am not an easy person to get along with. inexplicably, through all my stubbornness, petty jealousies, fits of destruction and alienation, ex #3 remained my friend. i could even go so far as to call him my best friend, because i have never had a friend who would quietly put up with my shit, except for him, and i hated him for that.
i wanted him to be angry with me, to order me around, to tear me down and isolate me from his sphere. i had waited and waited, and after almost two years, i couldn't wait any longer. so i made him do it. i lashed out and cut at his insecurities. he became upset, and, quite concisely, told me to "fuck off". i was glad, but at the same time, equally upset with myself and desperately afraid, because i hadn't quite formulated a plan to make up with him yet. after letting him stew for half a week, and incessently trying to call him, i finally reached him at 10 in the morning, his time (i should mention that i'm in toronto while he's in calgary). he sounded half-asleep, and in retrospect, i think that affected his judgement. he said he wasn't angry with me anymore. i couldn't speak; i didn't expect that answer. i was half-hoping that he was still furious with me and was going to put me on his special "enemies list". i have an unhealthy relish for enemies since discovering that i inherited my father's ability to make enemies both easily and comfortably. the conversation that followed was awkward and laden with silences. i'm grateful that he ended the conversation; i wouldn't have had the strength to do it. it was a tuesday and i left home at 2 so i could get to work by 4.
maryana, the head secretary, asked if i was alright; she said i wasn't my usual energetic self, rushing around the office preparing faxes and running to pick up the phones. instead i was melancholic and pensive, moving with a sleep-walk-like quality. i was wondering if having made up with him actually affected me or my life. would it have a consequence, or would life continue as it had been for the past week? i was wondering if we, the sphere containing only the two of us, would be the same. it obviously would not, but how would it change, that is, if it changed at all? that's when i realized that milan kundera had spoiled me too; i was thinking in terms of weight and lightness. moreover, i couldn't believe that i had made up with him. oh, don't misunderstand me, i'm glad i did, but i think that i'll regret it, especially once september rolls around. i see the peacemaking not as an invitation to pick up where we had left off; it was more of a farewell. i don't feel that we ought to continue our relationship in the least; i want to cut off all contact with him. i made up wtih him so that there would be no ill feelings left over. the call was only one of both greeting and parting.
