less broken

..but still not well.

Went and had beers with Tre last night. It was nice. We were out late.

Mel came over earlier in the evening. It was nice. We cried together briefly, holding each other in bed, and then she left.

Tre lamented at one point that she was frustrated by pressure to couple. "Isn't it ok that I'm single? Why can't I be happy this way forever if I want to be?"

I replied that she can. I also disagreed. "That's fine at 27. That's fine at 35. That's fine during school, after a divorce, or when you're in that 'I just wanna fuck' stage (stages?) of your life. But I would suggest that no one in their 50s who is single and claims to love it actually made that choice. I think life made it for them and they gave up. They were our age once, alone, and tired of being lonely, so cognitive dissonance took over. 'We aren't alone because we can't find someone! We are alone because we want to be!' And it sounds good. And of course you can be happy (air quotes). But we're lonely for a reason. We're not built to fly solo."

Then I went home, turned on some sappy music, had a bowl of Cheerios, and crashed. I was really tired.

I woke up in the middle of the night sobbing. It wasn't a bad dream that made me sad -- i.e., a dream that I awakened to, then got teary. I think I actually woke myself up from sobbing.

I was watching her drive away. Watching her through her car window. Sara was playing in the background (Gravity again). And I wept. And wept some more.

I don't think that's ever happened to me before. I'm trying to remember the breakups I've had... and none of them were like this. None of them were just sad, without lots of anger or relief or whatever with it. It's like she died or something.

I don't like how this feels. I miss her.