Sigh.

So...

Yeah.

Here I am (again).
GV8 has left me (again).
By email (again).
On a Wednesday (again).

I'm sad. I'm not crushed, I'm not devastated.

It's just... again.

He says he'll... gods, I don't know. That he needs some time. Like he'll come back, you know, in a few months, when he's got things under control in his life, knows what he wants.

I don't see that happening.

What I do see is him getting sucked into the sex god life he has set for himself, throwing all of his energy into his club, into banging the good bang, into opening another club after that. Girl after girl after girl.

And forgetting me.

Especially since, after he let me know he needed space to get things together, I told him what happened with The Bassist. Talk about putting the proverbial bullet to our relationship's brain. Shouldn't have done it if I wanted to save the relationship, but I can't not be honest.

Our last communication by email.

The bar outside is loud. They open the doors to come out and smoke their cigarettes, music spills out, dances across the street through the alley and into my window.

Feels a bit hollow.

If I hadn't already, if I didn't know better, I'd throw myself after him. I'd drive to Hollywood, let myself into his apartment, and tell him he's not leaving me. That this isn't the way things are supposed to be, how can he deny what we have? He knows it's there.

This is what happens when you stand up for yourself, apparently.

Not exactly what I had been hoping for, I will easily admit.

Listen to the traffic pass by. I've been asking my friends what the goal is in life. What we're striving for. Poets, writers, singers, philosophers, gods, they all point at love. Different types of love, but it's always love.

All you need is love.

Is that it, though? Spend sixty to ninety years on this planet, trying to untangle who you were raised as, form yourself, and then... love? A life isn't worth living without love? You have to experience love? Passionate, heart-breaking love?

It's always a deathbed thing, too. Wishing that you had loved, wishing that you had told someone you loved them, wishing you had chased after that girl, that you hadn't cheated on your wife/husband, that you had had the courage to ask her to the dance.

Is it love?

Watching movies, nearly all the movies I've ever seen, and there's love. Love, sex, connection, something with another person. Unformed on your own, you need that Other. It brings reason to your existence. Brings reason to being, what the two of you create, a chemistry set between you.

It feels empty. My apartment is cold, my bed is large, and I'm left wondering what do to with myself. Accepting the likelihood that he'll never come back to me, my beautiful lover is gone because he could not reconcile his needs and his wants.

So what do I do now?

Curl up, sleep, and dream that he's beside me. Fantasize that I haven't lost something so precious I may never find it again in this lifetime.