I compare them to you.

I spent Saturday in Cedar Rapids visiting a friend. You can’t believe how amazing and strong both her and her daughter are for dealing with something so huge. I left early, had a date with CW at 1:00. At 8:00am, I headed back to Wisconsin.

At 10:30 I finally ended up in Beloit and stopped to get gas. My phone rang. It was CW. I was pumping, so I didn’t answer. He left a voicemail…

“Hey MG, it’s CW. Listen, I can’t see you this afternoon. In fact I can’t see or talk to you again. I don’t have a girlfriend like last time, I don’t know. It’s just hard to explain. Have a great life.”

I listened as I paid. I was angry. I wanted to drink or cry. I couldn’t tell which. The truth is, I don’t cry – so I wanted to drink to cry. Part of me was bent on fate, how could we keep bumping into each other? The universe throwing us in each other’s arms. How could that mean nothing? I called back.

“CW. We are both adults here. It’s been five years. I’m not asking to be your girlfriend, I was asking to be your friend. I missed being around you. But I guess some things never change. You have my number if you ever want to use it.”

I called E. She was busy. I called JF. He listened, “You’re too good.” I know I am. “Are you okay?” Of course I am. “MG, stop being strong. I know you are, you don’t have to be with me.”

I spilled, I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at me for believing I was worth something to someone. For buying into the “I loved you” mania. For holding my breath to have it taken away. I was mad for yearning for something that wasn’t good to begin with. I was mad because that guy, that asshole that left me the voicemail, I compared every guy to him. And no guy matched up. To that. What scum have I been dating?

I went to the game with E’s boyfriend, he was there. I was pissed. We had to see the game there because he’s a Bears fan and it was on digital cable. I hid in the backroom.

I went home and finally took the bath that I promised myself I would. I sat in the bubbles and the bath salts and contemplated why I wasn’t good enough. Keith Urban came on my iTunes, Tonight I Want to Cry.

The night before I talked with RS and he had said he’d be in town until late afternoon. I waited for late afternoon, not knowing when that would be. 7:00 was night, so it must be 5:00? It came and went. 6:00? Came and went.

I paced. I lit candles and laid in my unmade bed and I couldn’t take the built up emotion. I cried. Just a little. Frustrated with myself, it was 7:00. I put on clothes and started to head outside. Still angry, I text messaged RS to see if he was coming.

He drove completely out of his way and showed up. We kissed, forever. I didn’t think of anything but his hands on my neck, back, etc. It felt so good. We didn’t have sex right away like normally. We just sat there with each other, enjoying the teasing and the foreplay. We had slow sex and fast sex and then I laid in his arms for two hours, naked and he talked. I didn’t say anything.

I wanted to say, “What’s going on here.” But I was afraid he’d say it was just sex and I’d be by myself. I was afraid I’d lose him forever. He left just a few minutes ago, I walked him out to his car, his arm was on my back. We kissed for awhile. Dirty little secret exposed to the moon.

I walked back inside. I’m not sure how long I can hold out this charade of hard-ass girl looking for sex.

In many ways I’m angry at CW for being that guy, but as I said goodbye I was actually glad he was. After all, RS is just like him – except kinder. Gentler. Here now. That comparison I was glad for.