Closer to Fine

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

Me: I think we should be not-friends for awhile and see how that works out.

Him: OK, I'll talk to you...later.

(sound of two car ignitions)

And there it is. The magic-fucking-bullet. And not the silver bullet I use so much the paint's starting to wear off, thank you Doc Johnson, but the bullet that puts the whole damn thing to rest, stops me tearing out my hair and my heart. Confirm delete friend.

An hour later, I'm in therapy, with my dread-locked doctor nodding seriously at me:

"So, he started dating one of your employees? That's a very angry move."

I have never thought of it that way. I tell her, I tell Beautiful Girl, I tell another friend, yes, we went on vacation together for a few days, we came to a meeting of the minds, we moved on from oh-our-relationship-made-me-a-bad-person-and-now-I-am-redeemed, and he told me he always wanted to be full time and permanent, at heart he is monogamous, he didn't want me to fuck other people but emphasized getting turned on so he could deal with it, he wanted me to leave my husband.

They all say, "That certainly puts it all on you."

I tell Doctor Dreadlocks I'm screwed, I have to make a decision whether to hire his girlfriend and keep her where I can see her, or not hire her and have her show up where I am without warning, to visit him.

She says, "That's his mess. He made that problem. Tell him to clean it up."

And maybe I will.

But right now the feeling of not-talking, not-poking, not-friending, not-worrying is so freeing and lifting me from the dark fog of maybe I will take all these pills that rattle so invitingly in my purse, that I can't be bothered to pick up the phone, not even for a tiny victory.

There's more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive...