I need winter to be over please. Like now.Wednesday, 9:00 p.m.
I’ve read it three times over the last year. Once the day I got it. That was the day in April last year that I moved to my loft from the six-year relationship with Hoppy. I was leaving him. Once more when I found it four months later stuffed inside my suitcase which is where I’d shoved it on moving day. And tonight.
Tonight is the first time it made me cry. In all fairness I just watched “This Is Us” which always makes me cry. I’m sick again and so tired of that and sick of fucking goddamn cold winter. So very tired of winter. I’m so jealous of all the people who have been in a warm place over the last month. I need sun and green.
I’m not on any dating apps right now. My only male communication this week has been a couple of texts from the DJ. I feel disconnected as we haven’t spoken for a few weeks.
Grad school is tough right now, kind of eating me alive with a class where I spent eight hours on one assignment over the weekend. I called my gay bestie crying in the middle of it wanting to quit my program. Then I realize I would have to take an F in the class as it is too late to drop. Unacceptable.
My job is tough and also eating me alive but I’m giving it 110% everyday. Today was so hard in so many ways I can’t write about. I’m a public school teacher you see. I feel that I’ve probably made a mistake in living with my heart and not my wallet. People say, “Your job pays in students’ care. I’ll never get a note from a kid.” That’s true. I adore my students, god I do. But the stress of money is constant, a constant. There is not one day that goes by that I don’t worry about money multiple times a day, well I drop it at work and focus on students but before work and after.
I haven’t taken my car to the shop because I like seeing $2000 in my savings. I borrowed a little extra on my student loan so I’d have a little cushion of a couple of thousand and if I get my car fixed I won’t have that. It just seems that there are the haves and the have-nots and it doesn’t have anything to do with how hard you work or how much what you do matters. Welcome to ‘Merica where it’s all about business and law and medicine. Fuck you if you go into helping people, if you always chose people over building wealth, if you chose to leave your unhappy marriage and don’t get to split that shit now, if you are there for your kids even if you don’t have it and the ex just isn’t. I feel it’s shameful to be this way at age 55. I should have my financial shit together.
So I thought I was crying about the note that Hoppy wrote and gave me the day I moved out.
But I guess I’m crying about everything. Grad school, teaching, money, family, loneliness…
I’m crying about feeling alone tonight. I’ve been alone so much the last two weeks.
I’m crying about a relative who’s so down they sounded suicidal the other day and I stayed up talking with them until 3:30 a.m. They are going through something that if they had money, or I had it to give them would be so much easier. This country is made for the rich all the way around and I’m truly sick of it. Lady Justice is bullshit. If you have money you get the fancy lawyer and don’t have to do what the poor folks have to do.
I’m crying because goddamnit if it won’t be my first Valentine’s Day alone since I was 17 years old and how fucking stupid is that. I don’t care really about it. It’s so dumb. But I did just text a girlfriend who’s man lives far away to see what she’s doing and she hasn’t responded. I texted another friend earlier who also hasn’t responded.
So the letter. I know why it made me cry. Because you see Hoppy did love me. Was I right to leave? God yes. It would not have been a good choice to stay.
But I did love him dearly and he did love me. We just were not a right match. We could have been maybe if we’d worked things out through couple counseling but honestly I know in my heart we are such very different souls I don’t think I’d have ever been happy.
So the letter.
We’d gotten the moving truck together that morning, backed it up in the driveway and gone inside. I’d asked Hoppy to help me so the neighbors would see I wasn’t robbing him blind while he was at work mainly. We stood in the living room of the house we bought for me, a gorgeous 1940s Tudor and cried on each other’s shoulders. We did. We were both so sad.
It was all me. I chose to leave. He’d have carried on until death do us part, minus the wedding. (He had “forgotten to propose” eight months earlier and didn’t want to get married because being divorced was “pathetic.” I’m divorced.)
He handed me the letter and left.
In it he told me he loved me and thank me for everything. He brought up all the fun times we’d had and the love and support I’d shown him. He said I’d opened his eyes to new things and made him a better person. He apologized for any pain he’d caused me and ended with, “I will truly cherish all we have gone through as a couple.”
That’s why I fell so hard for him. At the core he is a kind, loving, cuddly precious human. Do I miss him? Sometimes I miss his hugs and holding hands. I miss that he took care of me. I didn’t worry about money. Fuck I got goddamn facials and shit.
I don’t miss him not understanding my need to analyze things and how it annoyed him.
I don’t miss not writing and watching so much tv with him.
I don’t miss the drinking.
I do miss his friendship.
Goodnight readers. Sorry to be a downer tonight but it wouldn’t be real without these nights in this blog.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com