Rise Up and Resist! (.....the temptation to call)

I erased the message this morning. Okay, so I listened to it 5 times in a row first....but I erased it, that's what's important here. Of course I felt this weird sense of panic afterwards, like what if he were to suddenly die and I just erased the only recording of his voice I had (which actually has happened to me, with my brother, so its not that weird of a phobia really...)? Then where would I be? Wishing I hadn't been so quick to erase the message in a fit of contrived liberation, that's where.

Way way back in the very beginning of this whole misadventure, I erased Mr. Emotionally Unavailable's number from my cell phone. He had said he would call that weekend, and when he hadn't called by Sunday morning at 1am I made a huge show of erasing his number in a fit of empassioned female empowerment. I was overly proud of myself for my oh-so-heroic action on behalf of all womyn waiting for phones to ring all across the world!

Of course I felt quite stupid when he called the next morning.

As I'm prone to do, I immediately confessed the comical situation and my ridiculous actions and he wouldn't give me his number for about two weeks, teasing me that I clearly didn't want it. I should have trusted my instincts then, huh?

I did take him off of speed dial the other day. I know its not quite as brave and bold and final as erasing his number, but I'll celebrate the small victories nontheless.

I also haven't called him back, despite desperately wanting to.

I thought about sending an e-mail explaining that I am not angry or trying to be cruel or bitchy or vengeful, but that I still need my time away from him; that I'm transcending the vicious cycle, as Lady Charon puts it. But were I to be honest with myself, I really want to send the e-mail in the completely unrealistic hope that he suddenly has this explosive epiphany and realizes how wonderful I am and that he really does love me and wants to be with me. That being confessed, I've abstained from clicking and typing as well.

Thus far, at least.

Lady Charon said its almost like an addiction, and it definitely seems like there's more than a little bit of truth to that.

Damn, of all the things to get addicted to! Couldn't I just choose heroin like normal addicts? Nooo, I've got to get addicted to an emotionally unavailable man and a destructive relationship. Lovely. I just don't think methadone treatments work for this one.

I did have a really good audition today, though. And for those 10 minutes, I felt on top of the world and couldn't have given less of a shit about Mr. EU, or any silly boy for that matter. So in an effort to be proactive and positive and hopefully rev up the ailing motivational engines, I am doing a drop in class at Black Nexxus this Sunday, and am going to start Belly Dancing classes (something I've always wanted to do despite being anti-rhythmic in nature) next Wednesday. The belly dancing class description says that the instructor inspires her students to move and feel sensual, neither of which I've been doing all that much of lately. If she can actually make me feel sensual, rather than feeling like the invisible cow I've become of late, I will be a lifelong devotee. The important thing is, though, that I am trying to do something rather than sliding down into a rut.

And that I haven't called, that's important too.

Or e-mailed.

Yet.

I think arrhythmic cows make excellent bellydancers.