Moving On to Me

The best part of a relationship ending, even one as slight as mine with the Waiter, is the moving on. I tend to be a man of emotional extremes. If you've got my attention, you've got it all, but once we're done, that's it. It's over.

That's not to say I haven't given people a second chance at times (this won't be one of them). Circumstances always vary. It's usually depends on... well, basically, it depends on how fucked over you made me feel and how avoidable I think it was. I can forgive a lot if I can tell you didn't mean to fuck me over, if it just kind of happened because of bad timing or what have you. But if you were simply an ass, well, sorry. You should have been more careful. I won't carry a sack of bitterness on my back for the rest of my life over it, but I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time, either.

Moving on, for me, is all about me time. I'm the first to admit when I'm into someone, I'm obsessive. I drop everything. I lose focus on myself, on what I want to be working on to be a better person, on the extra things I should be doing to improve the state of my life. I believe time is a gift and if you're important to me, I feel it is important to give you time. Inevitably I don't check in on myself, and then realize I've lost my sense of balance about things (which I hope is not the same thing as being unbalanced). I foresake too much of my me-time and then end up playing catch up.

I think this stems from worrying that I'm selfish. I've always believed I tend to be, and as a result I give too much of myself away. I do not think this is a good thing. Which is why I'm writing this down. I want to remember this lesson.

Still, I'm optimistic. I refuse to become cynical. The right guy, whenever we stumble into each other, will give time to me in return for mine, and the scales will even out. Not that I'm gonna sit around waiting for that to happen.

Yes, once I've decided it's over, it's over. I have no feelings of loss. I feel liberated. No more time wasted wondering, waiting for phone calls that will never come. Deep down, I guess I knew the Waiter was never gonna work out. I feel a welcome overwhelming sense of relief, as if I've narrowly escaped the path of an oncoming train. Nothing could feel better. I have new appreciation for my life. It's a good one. Things could definitely be a lot worse. And the timing is perfect. Summer, my favourite season, is nearly here.

Time for new adventures. Bring it on.