Part II

So, Feb agreed to treat me with the distance and respect that an ex-girlfriend usually receives from the man who broke up with her. He managed to actually back off for a while and we spoke less often and emailed only every three days or so; his words were friendly and interested, but no longer laced with innuendos and sexual comments. I definitely noticed the difference in my daily life: I thought about him only occasionally, and my heart ached less often. It was, as Martha would say, a good thing.

But then New Year's Day came. I woke up disgustingly early to go to work and practiced my double-tasking by brushing my teeth as I checked my morning emails, trying to ignore the persistent day-after-New-Year's-Eve headache. I received the normal spam and quick notes from friends, but also a very large email from Feb. As my tired eyes skimmed the message, my headache worsened.

The email was long and fraught with tones of helplessness and desperation. Feb's life is not proceeding the way that he wants it too. He is having issues in nearly every area that one could have issues in their life- social, spiritual, vocational, and of course personal. He outlined the main areas of his plight, then filled in the details and asked for my advice and honest opinion of what he should do.

Readers, this is not the email I was expecting. You see, this email was one that a person would only send to a very trusted friend. This email was brutally honest and heartfelt and painful and asked for an honest and potentially painful answer. This email assumed an intimacy that most broken-up couples, especially the male half, like to pretend never was shared with their ex-partner.

I didn't know what to say. I went to work that day with a burdened mind, and I thought about how to respond all throughout my shift. I prayed for wisdom and sensitivity and I wished that I could go to him and hold him and soothe him and kiss his worry lines away as I had so many times. I wished that I didn't have to be just an advice-giving friend. Then I went home and poured everything I could into a long message back- I tried to be encouraging, but I knew I was also brutally, frighteningly honest, and as I hit "send", I wished I could take it back- I was worried about how he would receive the things I had to say.

The next night we caught up with each other, briefly, on MSN. Incidentally, this is my least favorite way ever to communicate with someone, but more on that later. We only had a few moments to speak, but in that time he managed to say a lot.

Feb told me that he had never really comprehended just how well I understand him. He told me that my words were invaluable, that they were comforting and challenging; he even told me that he was going to seriously consider some of my suggestions, and asked my opinion on his interpretation of one. It was a wonderful moment- Feb and I were communicating on a level plane. He wasn't trying to come on to me or manipulate the conversation into some sort of sexual cat-and-mouse-game, and I wasn't trying to figure out how to get him back to Canada. We were simply listening to each other and respecting each other and trying together to find a way to deal with life.

Now, readers, you are asking why such a nice exchange has left me in a nasty, sales clerk-hating mood, aren't you? It's because I have not heard a word from Feb since. Actually, that's not true. We spoke briefly on the phone yesterday, and our conversation went roughly like this:

JM: Hey! It's good to hear your voice!

Feb: You too. Can't talk long.

JM: (confused because he called her) Okay. Listen what happened on New Year's Eve . . . (wittily tells falling down story)

Feb: (laughs for awhile) Well, I have to go to a barbeque and swimming party. Then I have another barbeque at night. Two in one day! So I'd better go, I have a lot of friends to see.

That was seriously it. It was really strange. No mention of the emails, or how his life was changing and I'd had input in the direction of its course. It was like he only called to tell me how full his social calendar is.

Since that brief conversation I haven't heard a peep from him. I emailed one or two sentences, just checking in to make sure all is well because I usually receive a message a day, but I haven't heard back. I feel as though he turned to me to solve his problems, and upon receiving an answer, he can't be bothered to communicate anymore. And so I feel isolated and hurt- I want to scream to him that I have needs, too- this friendship or relationship or whatever it's supposed to be is not just about him!

But I haven't said any of that because that is what clingy ex-girlfriends say, isn't it. And so I pass another day, trying to ignore the dull, insistent pain in my chest whenever he crosses my mind, trying not to check the computer more than once, trying to forget about him altogether. And of course, trying to restrain my pent up emotions from exploding at poor Harley-In-Training, whom I will most certainly be seeing when I return that damn stereo tomorrow morning.