10. Solitary Freedom: The Aftermath

I spent the next month with just me. I needed something to jump into, to take my mind off of things so I decided to make myself my project.

The first mistake I’d made, well other than even being in that mess in the first place, was putting myself in a position of dependence. (Though *sigh* this would not be the last time). Staying at BD’s so close to my job in Manhattan really made my week-day commute a lot easier. So I decided to get my own place in the area.

I scoured the Internet and rode through the city looking for “for rent signs” and found this cute little two-bedroom right across the street from an area university. Maybe I’d take a creative writing course or learn Spanish. There was even free curb parking out front. Perfect. And right within my price range. I signed the lease, hired a couple of movers with a truck and settled in.

Then I thought, why am I moving to be closer to a job I hate? I was so under appreciated at the little clothing house I was working for. Account management is what they called it but what I actually did was no more than glorified customer service. It was stifling and boring. I decided I’d look for a new job. What couldn’t I do this close to New York, right?

That night, I sat on a blanket in my new living room ... most of the large pieces of furniture in my old apartment had belonged to the landlord ““ and had a celebratory glass of red wine. I felt amazingly accomplished. Competent. Alone. It was nice. It was better than that.

It seemed like it had been so long since I’d just been with me. I think I’d found the thought scary, like solitary confinement or something. Before BD, I’d spent a lot of time with another boyfriend, before that, I was living at home, before that -- college life doesn’t really count, that’s an experience in an of itself -- and then of course, I was home before that. But the time I’d spent alone in my adult life? I could probably count 20 pages of my diary accounting for those short periods. I should do more of this. 

I put my left over Chinese food in my big empty refrigerator just so there would be something in there -- Chinese is terrible the next day, you really can’t reheat fried rice -- and crawled into my Queen size, pillow top bed. I could roll over almost twice on either side and do with my arms and legs what I pleased. This was nice.

BD was so very far from my mind. I’d been so busy doing my own thing, which is exactly what I’d needed to be doing, I hadn’t really even thought much of him. And I had no intention of calling him up and telling him I’d moved to his city. I didn’t want to get tied back into that. The binds had released and I was recovering well from my rope burns.

And though I had thought of Digital, it wasn’t with the same longing that had been so distracting before. I hadn’t spoken to him since the last time he called, however long ago that was.

BD did cross my mind that next morning though. I woke up to blinding light flooding through my bedroom windows. The light in my new space was great, huge windows, but the apartment hadn’t come with blinds. I felt sick all of a sudden, my stomach convulsed and I jumped up and rushed to the bathroom just barely making it before pouring out my insides. Gross.

It’s not that time, what the hell is this?

You know how you know, but you don’t want to know, so you act like you don’t know? I soooo did not want to know. But on the other hand, this needed to be taken care of stat.

I’d get myself together and go to Ikea for some curtains and CVS for a pregnancy test. When I returned, I’d be looking up a nice, clean, quiet clinic in the yellow pages.

Originally posted on February 28, 2008