I finally texted HP. A normal text, not a ‘What’s your problem’ text that never gets sent. I texted, ‘Enough time has passed, I think we should talk.’
We talked briefly last Saturday night. Well, he talked and I screamed. But other than that, we haven’t spoken to each other for two weeks. Kind of freaking out.
He does need to talk to me, but it should be in person. He’s coming to the house on Sunday. In the meantime I’m sitting in a flat alone and over thinking things. So, I’ve decided to post my emails with Emilie. I’ve been reading them over, and they explain a lot of what I’ve been going through, so I’ll share…with her permission of course.
The first one I received from her was this:
From E on 5 Nov:
Are you okay? I got super busy and have just now been catching up on your last several posts. After about three times of almost commenting and maybe saying something somewhat sensitive online, I decided I just had to send you a PM. I don’t know how much you’re exaggerating (cause you do sometimes do that), but you sound like you’re in a really bad place right now. Get in touch if you want to talk.
My PM response 5 Nov:
Hey, thanks so much for reaching out. Can’t talk much right now. In Edinburgh for Bonfire night and out with some mates. Will email you later to fill you in. Talk to you soon.
My email response night 6 Nov:
If you’ve read my blog you’ll know that HP up and walked out, and I have no idea why. Of course, I have an idea why, because he’s been seeing that skank, but he refuses to talk to me. When he left he was livid, but I don’t know why he’s so mad at me and it’s driving me mad.
To get away from the situation, I’ve escaped to stay with friends in Edinburgh. We had a blast last night for Bonfire night. Being American, you probably don’t know what that is, but it’s a national holiday in which okay to shoot fireworks and set stuff on fire.
I got here yesterday, saw some clients during the day, and then headed over to my friend’s flat and I was greeted with a giant glass of red, he said ‘sit down and bitch’. And he let me complain about HP, cry, and just have a good moan. Then after about an hour, his husband said that I wasn’t allowed to talk about it anymore. It was going to be a no ‘HP Zone’.
They had friends with a flat on a top floor of a block of flats, that had a great view, so we went over to watch the fireworks. It was a low key night, but was lots of fun. A great group of people, and fab chat. And, it kept my mind off HP.
But, this morning, I can’t stop thinking about him. My friends have said I should stay here through the weekend, and I think I will. I’ve got clients to see today, and I’m not ready to go back to an empty flat tonight. But, what if it’s not empty? What if he’s back there wanting to talk? What if he’s there and he’s happy I’m gone because he and Candy can have the flat? What if they actually aren’t seeing each other, and I’ve done something? But why won’t he tell me?
So sorry. I don’t mean to dump all this on you. It’s just that I’m at my friend’s flat. Alone. Having a bit of toast, and when I’m alone I can’t help but think about it. So, there you go.
That’s what’s going on. And I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say, ‘Call him. Talk to him.’ I’ve tried that, but my brain says ‘Let’s talk’, but I text ‘You fucking shit. What’s your problem?’ Then delete it before I send it.
Anyway, need to get dressed and moving. Hope all is well with you.
PS-Clearly Emilie knows HP’s name. I’ve just changed it for the blog, as I’m not ready to out HP’s identity as it would kind of out my identity.