Y’all, I didn’t mean to get myself into Grateful Mode
so quick. I was ready to hunker down, stay mad, compare myself to Mrs. Shy One
until I wanted to fling myself into that ocean he crossed for her. Instead,
hope. Liberation. I’m free to look for what I want, even if I don’t know what
it is. (I kinda know what it is.) I miss him, but way less than I did when I
was waiting for his texts.
Last Saturday, as part of my Have an Awesome Day and
Don’t Think About Why He Doesn’t Want to See Me Most Weekends extravaganza, I
took all the lingerie sets he’d given me out from their Christmas box and the
other places they were strewn, and hung them neatly on hangers along with their
various straps and attachments. I fretted about whether it was an okay time to
send him a pic of my accomplishment. For praise! And because I was sooooooooooo
lonely for him even though I’d spent the day doing almost all my favorite
things. (In this case, tidying up and sparking all the joy.)
I’m gonna have to fold up all the pretty things and
put them away for a while. Even aside from the grief, I’ve still never managed
to get my head around them. Here’s an incomplete list of the thoughts and
feelings I’ve had about the pretty lingerie gifts since they first appeared a
few days before Christmas:
1. OMG
it never occurred to me that this kind of beauty would ever come in my size,
let alone be gifted by such a gorgeous sweet man!
2. I
must be a beloved princess, getting so lavishly spoiled!
3. Some
of them, he saw on me in pictures only. It would have taken him a while to get
to this many outfits worth of visits.
4. The
radio silence after I sent one of the pictures. The radio silence after most of
our dates. Or near radio silence. Or even perceived radio silence because he
always left SO FAST.
5. Holy
moly who KNEW I was this fucking hot?!
6. Mortified
self-consciousness when he asked about the fit and I had to tell him the pretty
purple one was a little short, that the snappy crotch thing had come unsnapped
almost right away.
7. What
would it be like to have an Only Fans where I just wear these things and play
with my nipples all day? Is that allowed?
8. Some
of these are Rihanna’s panties. Oh no he must have spent so much money. He is
in a two-income household with two real full-time jobs and I’m a small business
owner who barely makes a profit and is still partially supported by my ex-wife
of ten years. What if someday I lose my place and have to move into
BFF-Formerly-Sweetie’s front room because my rent is too high and my
post-pandemic credit score is awful.
9. I
should talk to him about the class divide between us. And the cultural divide.
And the fat/straight-size divide. And the closeted/out divide. But there’s no
time to talk about those things because I’m supposed to be an escape, a balm,
not another thing to feel dutiful about, not another bundle of feelings. Not a
burden.
10. Mistress-not girlfriend feelings.
Doll-feelings.
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