I had a period, at the beginning of being unfaithful back in March, when I was chased. There was Eric who said whatever seemed necessary to get me into bed (and more power to him). The ex-cop, who overwhelmed me with his life, photos, info, messages. Dr. Spin, with whom I sent and received insults. And the lovely J, who invented and spun through an entire virtual relationship with me before ending it.
And now life is boring. I blog about crap in my life. I look at the amazing variety of men on an internet dating site (we are one mixed bunch, the close to 50 year olds. From scary and fat to utterly lovely.) And I wonder about what to do with myself.
I’m seeing the therapist tomorrow night, Tuesday, on my own. I wish I wasn’t on this path of self-destruction, but for the moment it’s like falling off a building. Usually everything is just fine until you hit the ground. At which point some helpful bystander might shout down, “You okay?”