Bringing out the big guns

Raise your hand if you've ever broken up with someone and then tortured yourself by continuing to speak to them, see them and maybe even sleep with them under the guise of "being friends" and not wanting to lose someone that was "such a big part of your life," when you were really clinging to the secret, hidden and often subconscious hope that something would miraculously change and you would suddenly be the perfect couple, together forever?

That's what I thought.

If you didn't raise your hand (at least internally), chances are you're lying, are the most well-adjusted and self-aware human being on the planet or you've never been in love. There is something about break-ups that brings out intense fear. A fear that we will never be loved again..."like that." A fear that we will never feel the way about someone else that we did about Mr. X. From the outside (and I would know, I've spent a lot of time, standing on my soap box, dispensing advice from the outside) it's easy to see that this is simply not the case. But inside the agony and nostalgia of a break-up, it's impossible to accept that you will find more. E-V-E-R.

I slept with J-Dogg last week.

I did it because I'm afraid to let go of my feelings for him. I did it because I miss him. I did it because he represents the strong, quiet, manly-man that my repressed feminine side has been daydreaming about. I did it because I wanted to touch him again. I did it because I've been spending a lot of time thinking about gender relations and feminist backlash, and I'm realizing more and more how much responsibility I share in the demise of our relationship. I did it because he was - if I'm totally honest with myself - my first love. But mostly, I did it because I've been talking to him and seeing him intermittently since we broke up...like a complete dumbass.

I don't have any earth-shatteringly brilliant excuses or rationalizations to convince myself or any of you that this was a good idea. In all honesty, it was a horrible idea...and it gets worse. I told J-Dogg that I don't want to be closed to the possibility of us, again, someday.

[Sadly, this is the moment when I usually stop reading the book or watching the movie because I'm so annoyed with the heroine that I simply can't take it anymore...FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.]

It's true, I don't want to be closed to the possibility of J-Dogg, but how am I ever going to sincerely enjoy all the other manly-laid back-camper-hotties that want to date me - and who could potentially be in the same place in their lives as me - if I'm wearing my "I heart J-Dogg" t-shirt?

Soooo, a couple of hours and a very poignant convo with my best later, I decided it was time.
-I erased his home and cell numbers from my phone (luckily, I have a terrible memory and can't always remember my own phone number, so I think this will be an effective move)
-I FINALLY erased his adorable text messages and voice mails...which means I will actually be able to open my phone or check my messages without being reminded of him
-I shoved all of our pictures - and other electronic evidence of our relationship - into a folder on my computer so I won't accidentally-on-purpose look at them
-My phone now sleeps in my girl roommate's room...late-night seems to be my time of weakness

Sometimes there's nothing left to do but bring out the big guns, close your eyes and hope you make it to the other side without accidentally shooting yourself.