Ashleee Karen

Made it 4 months celibate…now what??

Pull back, push away, forget, and bury.

Posted by ashleeekaren on September 18, 2010

So I went to the hospital today to get a bone scan done on my foot, which may or may not have a stress fracture. I had been to this hospital once before when i was with my exboyfriend and apparently my in case of emergency contact was still him. Yet another reminder of the passage of time. When the receptionist asked for my new emergency contact number I gave her my father’s name. She said, “Relationship to you?” And I said, “My father.” She nodded slightly, and I swear I caught a look of pity on her face…

Why is it that I feel everywhere I go, someone is trying to make me feel better about the choices in my life – the decisions I’ve made, and my current single status? Is it them? Or is it me? Maybe I’m just interpreting everything this way? Maybe I’m trying to tell myself that I’m ok because deep down inside, I’m afraid that I’m not. Or is it that when you get to this age, these things just pop up?

Phone rang tonight and it was Dave. I answered the phone timidly and asked, “Did you get arrested?” Because I can’t believe that after the conversation we had about giving me my space that he would call for any other reason than that.

He just wanted to say hello, see how I was doing, “surprise me” he says. Now he’s texting me asking me if I miss him.

How do I even answer that question? I’ve been watching porn to try and forget our last night together! Should I tell him that? I do miss him, even though I know we aren’t right for each other, and even though I know he just wants my attention and time until he’s bored with me.

Still haven’t answered that text and then he followed up with another questions about missing him. I was having a perfectly wonderful week without him in it – cooking, cleaning, hanging out with my dogs, running errands. Perfectly boring and drama free.

What the other Ashlee Karen wants to say to him, the one I keep hidden and quiet and buried underneath layers of wise cracking, aptly timed jokes, is that yes, I miss him. Yes I miss him and can I come over and watch reruns of Deadliest Catch and American Pickers while snuggled up on the couch next to him? Can I come over and allow you to undress me, tangle my hair, and roll around with me? Can we enjoy the post-coital cigarrette in the dark coolness of your home office that I’ve come to love?

But the other smart, experienced, 31 year old Ashlee Karen remembers that she is the guardian of her weaker naive self and quickly withdraws any real warmth or affection she has for Dave and replaces it with dry humor.

This is the way someone like me survives weddings, baby showers, mattress shopping, and hospital visits. Pull back, push away, forget, and bury.


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