Stood up.

Dear CJ,

Thank you.

Thank you for being a nice, somewhat normal guy.

Thank you for that banter in the beginning. Hell, even up until yesterday afternoon.

Thank you for enjoying the brownie and for telling me so.

Thank you for respecting my wishes that night. And for making me stick to my rules.

Thank you for being so pivotal in getting me to complete my second novel. (I do hope that when it gets published next month, you'll get a copy. Because there's something in it just for YOU.)

Thank you for getting me out and about to watch football and to see movies and to see the lights that night.

Thank you for kissing me in parking lots.

Thank you for answering my questions (well, until the last few days).

Thank you for telling me that you like me and that I'm very sexy.

Thank you for holding my hand.

Thank you for making me come.

Thank you for not having sex with me.

Thank you for helping me see that Leon would never be worthy. Even though you never knew he even existed.

Thank you for asking me good questions. Thank you for asking hard questions. Thank you for not holding any of those answers against me.

I'm sorry that the fact that I was alone for nearly 48 hours starting on Christmas Day affected you. I don't quite understand the dynamics of your family stuff, so it was hard for me to accept when I didn't hear from you. I'm sorry that the fact that I was taking on a 50k race (hence, the Race Mode attitude) affected you. And I'm sorry that there was a PMS issue there, too.

But if you were done, you really could have told me. And you could have let it end on Saturday. You didn't have to act like I mattered more than I actually do. You didn't have to beg for a chance to have a conversation. You didn't have to check on me after my race and be all sympathetic when you heard how messed up I was.

And you certainly didn't have to flirt with me all afternoon yesterday. And ask me to dinner. And then when I said I couldn't do dinner, you didn't have to tell me that you would come up and see me. And be all smiley and winky about it.

And when you realized you had woken up from an unplanned nap, you should have picked up the phone and called me. Instead of texting me to ask if I would still be willing to meet with you another night.

You could have just let it go.

Which, apparently, is what you've done today. But without even a call or a text.

And that is pretty much the first shitty thing you've done. Well, aside from dragging it out.

So, I hope you listen to the voicemail I left you.

And I hope you know that even though you were, supposedly, afraid of hurting me, you didn't.

I may be confused. I may be surprised. But I'm not that sad to see you go. You weren't "the one". And I knew that. But you were a nice guy to practice on for awhile. You were fun. And I liked you.

And, hey, you got me to stop sleeping with the 23-year-old. No, I didn't give him up FOR you. But it was time to give him up before he got hurt (oops?).

Maybe I'd be more upset if I wasn't reminded with increasing clarity just how many blessings there are in my world. If I didn't have this amazing little boy who brings me constant joys. Or if I didn't have amazing and wonderful friends whom I love fiercely and who love me back. Or if I wasn't hearing from Brendan again. Or if I didn't know that I'm fleeing the county in another sleep and won't be back until 2010.

But I do have those wonderful things in my world.

And while I feel this weird sense of unfinishedness (I get to make up words. Deal with it.), I am hoping that a few days away will help to alleviate that.

So, bye, CJ. I'm actually bummed that it ended like this. But I'm not all that bummed that it's ended.

Take care,
RetroMama