Imagine getting an email from your lover saying that his ex-wife has tested positive for HIV. That she had gotten it from the lover she had before he divorced her. And that by the way he couldn’t see you this week because he wasn’t feeling well. When I got this in my inbox from the Terminator, I almost fainted. I was at work, and thought holy shit. HOLY SHIT. Those were the exact words in my response after I asked him whether he thought he had been exposed and what the possibility was that I had been (even though we ALWAYS used condoms) but shit happens. I mean fuck, he was writing to tell me about it.
Terminator responded like a tornado. How DARE I assume that he wasn’t on top of the situation; how DARE I assume that he would put me in any type of danger; he’s been tested every three months since before the divorce (three years ago) and is negative; a real man KNOWS his status, blah, blah blah; all he wanted was a shoulder to cry on, but how DARE I be so ignorant to assume that he didn’t have the situation under control. He was so disgusted at my lack of total confidence in him that we had nothing further to talk about. He dumped me. End of discussion.
I was incredulous (it was so stupid) but I was undeniably dumped, as day after day passed with not a word or a call and it sunk in that he was serious. It was over. Just to make sure I went and got tested. Negative. The break-up upset me but I wasn’t devastated. It had only been a few months, and I had had the insight about what his attitude in general reminded me of, so I thought, after the initial pain and shock, that it was all for the best. That was my brain.
My heart and my pussy had other ideas…every time the phone dinged or rang, every time I checked my email, I hoped it was him. The ache I felt, that I still feel, for him seems tragic. We shouldn’t be arguing about stupid inane shit, we should be fucking each other senseless. Life is short and precious; beauty and magic between two people (however temporary) is rare. The wasted alchemy between us saddens and angers me.
Although I insisted I was fine, my best friend knew better. “It’s not ok to say you’re fine if you’re not fine,” she told me over a cheeseburger. In times of crisis, most women eat chocolate; some women eat cheesecake; some eat ice cream; I eat cheeseburgers. The greasier, the better. “It’s ok to be upset, you need to be upset and then move on.” That was week one, the week I spent pretending I was fine. Once I let go (week 2), the sadness would come in unexpected waves and overtake me from time to time. Only once did it land and settle on me for a whole day. That was the worst of it. Later that night I decided to focus what and who was next. I had first put up profiles online six months ago. Time to take stock and re-assess. I left two or three sites altogether; expanded and improved my profile on two others, and joined one more. Then I filled my calendar with events happening around town this summer where I can meet guys in person. What a concept. We shall see how that goes.
Both my ex-husband and my best friend insist that Terminator will contact me again. Deep down, I don’t think our story is over. I was hopeful but doubtful. He was so angry and unreasonable, I was just plain angry. We’re both headstrong. Not a recipe for conciliation. At times I hope never to hear from him again. It would make everything easier. Simpler. I half believe that the fight was an excuse to break up. Maybe he had met someone he liked better; maybe he was tired of me (oh just shoot me), maybe he didn’t want to deal with me and my feelings. Regardless, its over. I face a future of teaching every lover from now on how to fuck me properly, now that I’ve been to nirvana. Losing someone who is endowed and talented (a rare, rare gift) is another tragedy. In that sense I’m fucked, so to speak.
But wait… Yesterday, as I’m preparing to meet a new guy for a “straight” date, I receive an email from Terminator. I found the timing to be hilarious. Not that he’s apologizing or begging to see me or anything…he’s basically telling me that I failed to be a friend to him (apparently he expected me to console him about his wife. I told him he was out of his mind. Not in those words )but that he doesn’t hold a grudge. How big of him. It would be touching if he had any interest in how I felt. “I’m not sure what I feel at this point, I just wanted you to know I don’t harbor any bad feelings and not the type to hold a grudge…” Are you kidding me? What the fuck is wrong with you? What have I done for you to be angry with me? You arrogant bastard. Go to hell.
Image: by Auremar via Photospin