It's been a weird week... my cyber partner had a crisis of conscience and withdrew leaving me not exactly bereft but with a certain amount of thumb twiddling going on. I think humans (or maybe just female ones) are programmed to seek a narrative, a story, even when picking a fantasy partner, and this particular story has come to a natural and unresentful end.
I was sat down at lunch today and "Next Married Man" sat with me, and got a phone call, he explained to his wife how to move the car seat forward so that she and his daughter could fit the cupboard they bought from IKEA into his company car.
It is now 73 days since I heard from the ex. I try to look forward and not back. 73 days from now will be in a new year and I will still be stuck in the last but one wondering...
I hate that I get like this. Of course it is "natural" to want to find someone to share day to day shit with, although I don't really know what this is like in practice. I sometimes hate that I want excitement, variety so much. I hate that I ditched my solitary principles for the ex and felt I wanted nothing more than to come home to him each night and then after getting his wife pregnant on an overspill of our lust he decided I was irrelevant.
I hate that there is nothing else to do but be me.