Saturday night, I received yet another text message from B, that read "I remember when your hair was red. It was so pretty then."
Taking this message on face value, I felt a little unnerved. To receive a text message from him at this point is disorienting, and to receive a text message praising how I used to look—well, it felt creepy.
When I put just a little bit of thought into the message, it began to feel more creepy. B hated when I dyed my hair, and stranger—he never knew me when I dyed my hair red. I was dyeing my hair blonde by the time I met him. I suppose I dyed my hair red once during the time I knew him, and we both hated that shade.
This message prompted me to action. I’ve received over 10 text messages in two weeks—this is ridiculous. All of the messages are fondly remembering the past, as well. Strange. So I did something I really didn’t want to do: I e-mailed his mother a very brief and to-the-point message requesting that he please stop texting me. There are other ways of contacting me, should he need to get in touch with me regarding his daughter.
My heart hurts for him.
I am moving on with my life. Yesterday, for example, was more beautiful than I can describe, once I had dealt with the e-mails. A invited C and me over to just hang out, and that’s exactly what we did. It still floors me that he enjoys spending his one and only free day of the week with a two-year-old and me. He seems surprised that this surprises me, but really…who wants to spend their one free day with an energetic two-year-old?
A does.
He interacts so well with C. It’s a bittersweet sight for me to see, because he interacts with her much better than B did; it’s both sad and happy. She adores him, and he adores her. He has said on several occasions, “I love you both,” or “I love my two girls.” C, in turn, has said, “I love you, A,” quite shyly.
I was more than thrilled to make dinner for A and C last night. It wasn’t anything fancy—just quesadillas. Yet it’s been so long since I’ve really cooked, and I finally had someone to cook for besides myself. Some of you will consider me sick, but I love cooking. It was delightful to cook for them, and then sit down with them and eat. I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed the food. I enjoyed the company.
Last night, we felt like a family.
It felt sooooooooooo yummy and good.
*happily sighs*
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