Fillers and shadow men

Thoroughly pissed because my previous post got deleted for some strange fucked up reason.

The old me would have gone, "Aww, maybe the content of the blog was not meant to be published. It's a sign," I would have then proceeded to plan an elaborate fiasco of getting into a meaningless argument of heartbreak and then pretend that I am awaiting death alone in bed. But fuck it. I will re-write it.

* so here goes *

I was clearing out old emails and came across an ex NJ's. We were at the cusp of a break up back in 2003 and it was just over one year when we first started going out. He said in that email that he felt like a "filler" and that I had "other options" lurking in the background. And for that, he felt insecure in the relationship. I felt almost sad when I read that. Because I knew he was right. I did surround myself with other options, though they never really did play a prominent role. I had not remembered what I had done after reading the email then. I don't remember feeling the same way as I do now. If I did, surely, we wouldn't have broken up then.

Me and relationships.

1. I had a lot of relationships.
2. I had a lot of break ups.

Reason: Almost like clockwork, by the one year mark, I begin to get restless and start to find ways and means to sabotage the relationship. I turn into the pessimist, cynic and paranoid all at once. So much so that it is impossible for both of us to be happy in the relationship. Then it ends.
For no apparent reason but the fact that I had thought it would and now it did.

What was the deal? Was I ready to move on to someone else? No, not really. Though I admit, up till recently, I had given very little of myself to the relationship and had instead diversified my risk and hedged on my bet. And for that I feel like a lesser person.

So after all that introspection and feeling lousy about myself, you would half expect me to pick up the phone to call NJ up and tearfully apologize and tell him how much he had meant to be, blah, blah, blah... but I didn't. We had both moved on. And if there was one thing I hate, it has to be living in the past. I am not going to try to recreate/reenact the past for past's sake. That's not going to help anyone. He's happy with someone else. And I'm happy happy happy happy, ahahahahahaha, with someone else.

I was 300 miles away from home, steaming in my own sweat, refusing to take a bath, still in my monkey pants pjs so I got up and walked up to him and gave him a hug.

Me: Saturday hug!
Him: Why so "manja"?
Me: Because I want to tell you that you are not a filler and I have no shadows lurking.
Him: What? Loser.
Me: Yeah, I know.

Then I giggled like a schoolgirl and pigged out on marshmallows in front of the TV. It was between Kimora Lee Simmons and my 4th jet puffed marshmallows that I realised that I had done something I had never done before. I had let down all of my defences. No camo, no ammo, no plan B, no exit strategy. 100% vulnerable. Damn, he's got me good.