After Being Robbed...

...it's hard to feel normal.

I refer, of course, to being with Rob - not actually having my possessions taken from me.

I mean, if I were pandering, I could say that Rob stole my heart*, took too much of my time**, replaced my good will with a hole***... but none of that is really true.

Now, the thing that takes up the most time/energy when dealing with Rob is doing things expressly so that I don't have to deal with Rob.

Every morning, when we hadn't spent the night together, one of us would call or text the other. Every night, if we weren't together, one of us would call or text the other. Then there were the rituals: taking the dog out for his first walk, cooking breakfast/lunch/dinner together (depending on our schedules), cleaning house, going grocery shopping, entertaining our friends... Okay, now that I think about it, we were pretty much married.

Which goes to show just how hard it is to get him out of my system. It's not so much that I want him per se, but I miss the thing that is now a void. My synapses need time to snap to something else, my neurons need time to realign.

So, now, when I wake up, I fight the urge to text him, and I go running instead. Or I clean up the house. Or I do laundry. Or I turn on Exercise On Demand (thank God for cable!) and do yoga or tae bo.

When I'm at work and I get a few free minutes (in which I used to text him and get all giggly), I scour Craigslist for job openings. My internet connection at home is still wavy, so I get to the school early and use their internet connection. (It's the least they can provide me with, since the last two paychecks have bounced!)

When I'm at home at night, too broke to go out, I do sit-ups till I hurt. Then I write, and I immerse myself in the lives of fictitious characters who are so incredibly different from me that I have no choice but to forget about Rob. (Note: This is the first time that my characters bare so little resemblance to me. Weird and awesomely wonderful.) I read until my eyes hurt too much to keep them open, then I try to teach myself guitar (with my eyes closed). If I still can't sleep and my eyes don't burn like jalapenos have been rubbed into them, I call someone. Or I try to finagle the internet connection so that I can resume my job hunting. Or I paint.

It's incredibly liberating and fortifying to be reminded of my own strength of will. And when Rob calls me, which he does several times a day, and I choose to answer the phone, there is little resistance to feeling good. I know that I've earned his friendship and that I want nothing more from him, and that whatever happens next - cutting off ties with his family, permanently losing contact, becoming good friends - I'll be okay. I'm ready for anything.


*I let him have it.
**Again, I let him have it.
***Not even close. I just like the way phrases sound in threes.