The Kid is home in Boston this weekend, and as his mother strategically placed photos of us after she was “heartbroken” about our break-up and “everything in this stupid place remind [him] of [me]”, he has been texting. And calling. And IMing.

Um, are you fucking kidding me? I have been trying my DAMNEDEST to be ok and the MOMENT he is away from her, he gives me attention? Fucking ridiculous.  But I won’t deny the attention is … intriguing?

Tuesday, midnight. “I almost called when I landed to tell you my plane didn’t crash.”

My response: “I almost called to ask.”

Wednesday, 2:00am. “Miss me?”

What the hell MISS ME? Does he think this is a GAME? FUCK. My response was “Are you drunk?” because what other reason would there be for a text like that? I called an hour later; I let myself indulge in the conversation because I missed talking to (read: flirting with) him. For almost six years he was my best friend, and that’s the hardest part of letting him go –not often that two people just GET each other. At one point, he confessed that he would live the rest of his life happy if I was sleeping in his nook. I think he has forgotten my tendency to snore. I was not proud of my weakness but asserted a personal resolve to refrain from further participation of his games.

Thursday, 10pm. “I ruined us but I am so thankful that I had you because you are the most amazing person I have ever met.”

Ignored. Fuck him. Shall I count all of the things for which I am thankful this year? No. Shall I pour another glass of wine instead? Yes. Leave the bottle. And actually, that seems a tinge melodramatic –I have many things for which to be thankful but regarding him?  I am still bitter.

Friday, 3am. “marry me”

For five years, this used to be a common text whenever he was really drunk and it always made me smile, even though he was belligerent and I would play coy. This time it made me angry. Because what. the. hell. Remember Kid, that you want me completely out of your life?  Remember your goddamn girlfriend whom you picked instead of me?  Even if you don’t see it as such?  It did make my heart hurt a little though.  From things that could never be.

Saturday, midnight. “You sober?”

Nope. I was out on the town, with my girls and his friends but like hell I was going to give him those details. I didn’t even call once in bed and passing out as I used to. I hope he imagined I was passing out next to someone tall and cute. Who appreciates me.

Sunday, 9pm.  “I am never going to get over what I did to us.”

My response was something appropriately passive aggressive: Excuse my questioning of the sincerity given the circumstances. 

And I know he was trying to make amends and convey his regrets, but I just do not have time for it.  What’s the point?  He has a girlfriend –regardless to his claims of how much she doesn’t matter, she is still there –and the girlfriend was chosen over me.  I know it was the wrong choice, as does he, but that is not my concern.

Those of the happily-married genre will say that when one meets their match, they just know. Which seems like a smug answer for those who have never felt it. But with him, I just knew. Granted, we both put each other through a lot of bullshit for a lot of reasons –we met at eighteen, bullshit and mistakes should be expected –but that doesn’t discount that we just knew.

Which is probably why I give him more slack than I would most … even though the slack backfires to create a noose for me.

Even Sex And The City permitted two great loves (and could there be a more reliable source?) per lifetime. I am waiting for number two, but that doesn’t mean I won’t always harbor number one –though I should maybe rephrase that and call him my first, as the former implies ranking.  And while I am looking for my second, the first still has an undeniable hold over me.

This attention is temporary until he returns to school (and her) tomorrow. And then I am back to being ignored and being told to stay away. (Lovely treatment, no?)  I wish I was stronger, but with him, my defenses crumble. Especially when he returns to the guy I loved, the one who loved me, and is feeling remorse and humility, delayed though it may be. But it’s the holidays, and as long as I don’t convince myself this attention is something it’s not, I think I can excuse it by means of holiday dispensation.