Running

We ran today. Literally, we ran. It was funny. We're old. I needed to run. I haven't run in about a week and a half, and I needed to get into that zone where my mind quits working. The zone where the only thought running through my head is "pound pound breath breath pound pound breath breath". I need the zen.

I'm confused. I'm trying to figure out what I'm confused about. It really breaks down into two major categories. Work Life and Private Life.

Work Life. Included in this category is moving. It's time to move. I move. That's what I do. I have a couple of job leads which would require relocation. I don't have any reason not to move. I should move. I hate moving. I don't really want a real job. Ugh.

In all reality I'm looking for an excuse to run away. I know that. I'm looking for an excuse to pick up that which is a bare necessity, throw it in the back of my truck and drive to a new location. I need to start over. Which brings me to the second major category.

Private Life. Oh. My. God. Yeah. So, a year ago all I wanted was a no-strings-attached, nothing but sex relationship. Truly. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to deal with the crap that went along with a relationship. I didn't want to worry about tomorrow or whether he'd be around. I just wanted to get laid.

I got laid. And then I got attached. About the time I thought I was emotionally ok with being attached I realized I was more than just attached. But for a year he has consistently told me that he doesn't like me like that. That I don't mean that to him, and that I never will.

And then he decided to leave. I don't know what's going on now. I really don't. I don't know if he's admitting to himself that he has feelings. I don't know if he still doesn't like me like that and never will. I don't know. He's always been the guy who did one thing and then said something different where feelings are concerned. I know there are many reasons for that. But, I don't know what he means by what he's saying now. And it's driving me crazy.

Part of me would drop everything tomorrow and go with him. Part of me wants him to ask me to. Part of me wants to greet him at the door with his pipe and slippers and ask him how his day was. Part of me can't stand the thought of losing the part of me that he has become.

And then the other part of me smacks that part of me upside the head. That is the image of everything I have been revolting against for years. That is the image of the woman I have most feared becoming. That is the image I attempted to live up to at one point in my life and failed miserably. Which is why I am where I am today.

The shitty thing is, it doesn't matter. He's leaving. It doesn't matter whether he loves me or not. It doesn't matter whether I love him or not. It doesn't matter whether we would have ended up very happily sitting on the front porch making fun of the paperboy in 40 years. Because that's not going to happen. He's leaving.

Which is why I need to go too. I can't stay here. He needs a clean break. He needs to be able to go on and not wonder about what he left behind. He needs to be able to move on in his life down the path that life has chosen for him. I just can't watch him walk away. I can't watch him fall in love with somebody else. I can't give him relationship advice on the next one. I can't hear about the new fuck buddy. I can't be here when he comes home with his wife. I can't deal with him being sent into combat. I can't read his death notice in the paper. I'm just not that strong.

So I'll go. Fully admitting that I'm running away. Fully admitting that I'm weak. Fully admitting that I'm a coward. And fully admitting that if things had been different I might have been able to stop running.