The rest of the story

So, I'm sure you're dying to know...does New Guy now have physical custody of...New Guy's Son? Yes, yes he does.

And what does that mean for me? Well, it means I will see very little, if any, of him between now and the time he moves (some time over the summer). We're talking on the phone, but his focus is, and will be for a while, on his son. Hopefully at some point I will be able to at least join them for dinner or something, but he's got to get him established into a routine first. That's the priority. It occurs to me that I've probably never mentioned ('cause why would I?) that his son is autistic. So this isn't just a case of a kid adapting to a new place and new school. It's a little more complicated. And I'm praying it goes smoothly for them both.

As for me...well, I'm depressed. And pissed off. (NOT, I repeat, NOT at New Guy or his son. Maybe a tad bit at his ex-wife, but no...not going to go there.) I'm pissed off at whatever combination of god/fate/the universe is calling the shots here.

I feel cheated. All I was asking for was one more month. ONE MONTH. I knew things were going to change when the school year ended for him and his kids, but I thought I'd have until then. I thought we'd have one last, lovely month, with the stress of his job search (which was considerable) over for him, and rehearsals over and sciatica better for me. We could finally relax, enjoy the beautiful spring weather and each other...spend some truly quality time. Yes, it would come to an end, but we'd make the most of our remaining time.

And then BAM! We had one night to say goodbye. One stinking night. A week night, at that, so that both of us had to go to work the next morning. It's unfair. (And yeah, I know, I should certainly know by now that life isn't fair.)

So, that's how the story goes. First guy I've had real feelings for in years, and this is how it ends. I keep hoping, of course, that maybe this isn't the final chapter in our story, but for now, I have to act like it is. And it's killing me.

All I want to do at the end of the day is go home and have a beer or two...or three...but I'm not letting myself do that. I know the difference between enjoying a tall frosty one, and self-medicating, and I'm not going to let myself go down that path. I've always drunk because I wanted to, never because I needed to, and I want to keep it that way. I'll enjoy an adult beverage or two if I'm out with friends, but not at home alone. Too dangerous. For me. Right now.

I'll be fine, I know. I'll get through this. It's just going to take a while.

Well, this was a real downer of a post, wasn't it? As long as we're down, I will also share with you that I haven't seen McBeady in over a month. I fear the worst. (Dolly still checks in every day, thank goodness.)

The sciatica is gradually getting better, and I'm hoping next week to start back in with some gentle cardio and yoga, 'cause god knows I could use those good feelings right now! I'll self-medicate with endorphins--yeah, that's the ticket.