Where Disappointment and Regret Collide

First and foremost, I would like to congratulate my home state of Arizona for being the only state in this election that did NOT pass the same-sex marriage ban. I’m proud of you, baby! Finally making bollo ties and aquamarine shirts look good! (Unlike Colorado, who not only passed a same-sex marriage ban, but struck down a domestic partnership law. I hope at the next Colorado rodeo, all the bulls line up, tie a rope around all of your testicles and ride you, Coloradans.)

I was also excited that the Democrats took back the House (and perhaps the Senate), though I was underwhelmed to see the rise of the socially conservative Democrat in this election period. I probably agree with Lincoln Chaffee (former Senator - RI) a heck of a lot more than Brad Ellsworth (new House member from Indiana). What party does a girl have to sign up for to get the socially liberal, yet fiscally conservative candidate?

In less inspiring news, I’m at day 13 post-breakup (but who’s counting) and have now lost 7 pounds in that time period. It’s a toss up between best diet I’ve ever gone on and cruel and unusual punishment to my body. But what is there to do? Food has lost its appeal and it makes me sick to eat it, anyway. I feel like I’ve become an after school special for anorexia.

There’s really nothing more heartbreaking than realizing your own part in a relationship’s death. That perhaps you could have saved the relationship long enough for it to work out had you only been able to do this thing or that behavior. It doesn’t even seem to matter much whether you couldn’t bring yourself to do this or that because its not in your permanent psychological makeup or because you simply lack emotional maturity and depth. Either way, it plays with your head and makes you wonder why you haven’t learned more in your 29 years on this earth. It seems like you should have. In my case, I found most everything I wanted in one person and I was so very scared that I would lose it, that I crushed her with the weight of my expectations. In the end, my own fears led to the very thing I was most afraid of - pushing her away. And now there’s nothing there. No relationship. No friendship. Just a lot of sleepless nights where disappointment and regret collide. (Yes, that’s a reference to a great Death Cab for Cutie song - “Title and Registration.”) And the painful realization that despite the fact that I’d cut off a body part to have her back, I can’t give her what she needs right now. I just don’t have it in me for some reason. Heartbreaking.