I’ve been confused lately.

Very confused.

From the whirlwind of work, schedules and happy hours to the swirling of thoughts in my head and emotions in my heart.

Maybe I’ll be able to think more clearly after he leaves and my life will take on some semblance of normalcy and of “me” again. But between surviving three relationships, two different jobs and one sexual assault in the past two years, how can I even remember what “normal” is anymore?

“Normally”, when a relationship was becoming rocky, or there was an end in sight,  I’d be out scheduling dates and parties with either the trusty standby’s in my little black book. These included generally attractive, fun guys that I have met during my tenure in the District out of which relationships never materialized for one reason or another. However, platonic friendship never Quite developed in their place. At any rate, these are all excellent candidates for lively dinner, happy hour or movie going companions easing moi back into a the single mentally and solo lifestyle.

But I haven’t so much as perused my phone contacts list in contemplation of an augmentation of my social life.

So perhaps the definition has changed – or have I?

Frankly,

P.S. The meeting of Mr. & Mrs. Army went well - as predicted, much wine was consumed. Thankfully, the meeting did not necessitate the need for hard liquor. I was, as predicted, underwhelmed by inclusion into the Army family dynamic. However, I did not spend the majority of the weekend dwelling on where I was not. Which, I think is a step forward?

Army’s parents are in town. And yes – I will be meeting them this weekend.

I’m very conflicted about this whole “let’s play happy family” scenario that will consume my Friday and Saturday evening.

Personally I don’t see the point. I don’t see the point of me meeting them if he’s leaving in two weeks. Why even attempt this family integration when the relationship is rocketing towards a cliff? Why did I even agree to this potentially and inevitably tortuous affair?

I suppose it’s because I’m trying to be the caring, giving, NICE person that I know I have hidden SOMEWHERE deep down inside and sigh…that’s what you do. When your friend’s parents come into town, you meet them, you have dinner, you entertain and try to keep your language and the stories of their child doing jell-o shots on top of a bar last weekend – under wraps.

Frankly, herein lies the problem: no surprise, it has to do with Fuckhead.

Fuckhead’s family LOVE-D S me. They L-O-V-E yours truly, and rightfully so. They astutely pointed out that moi was the absolute best thing that ever happened to their Neanderthal of a son and integrated me into their lives like built in hardware on a MAC.

And cynically speaking, I don’t want this to be one more thing in this on paper “perfect” relationship that isn’t as shiny, or bright, or sparkly or “special” or whatever as before. I don’t need another family. I don’t want another family. And I still HATE the idea that a she-beast who’s never ventured beyond the confines of the greater Albuquerque metropolitan area has no doubt been integrated into the family that I miss and that I loved. As bitter and resentful and unattractive as that sounds.

And don’t tell me that I’m not “giving them or him a chance” – because frankly today, I just don’t care.

Not to worry dear readers. I will smile. I will charm. And be the dutiful girlfriend. I just don't feel like being reminded all weekend of what I Don't have.

Somehow I'm predicting a lot of alcohol in my immediate future.

Army is leaving. He’s not going off to war, not to some distant dessert covered country but to Tampa. Where people go to die. Prehistoric man had Tar Pits to dispose of their elderly. We have Florida.

I’ve known it was coming. Since our first date I knew. What I didn’t know was that he’d still be around seven months later or that I would want him to stay. So, I’ll ask you again. What do you do when your relationship is ending? When you have a date when you know it will be over?.

How do you function when the dark cloud looming off in the distance for so long, has found its way directly overhead, attempting to block the sun at every turn and threatening to storm before you’ve remembered to open your umbrella?

To be honest, over the course of this relationship, my feelings towards this man have fluctuated more than a schizophrenic politician on a teeter-totter:

“He’s perfect – but I’m not over Fuckhead”

“He’s wonderful – but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a military wife”

“He takes care of me – but he’s leaving and I’m going to have to learn to live without him”

“He’s PERFECT – but is he perfect for me!?”

Because I’ve known that he’s leaving, it hasn’t exactly inspired me to open the emotional floodgates and give this relationship a real chance. Perhaps this is one time the Canadian got it right.

Nine months before he left for law school, he started to withdraw. He bucked all my attempts to continue a relationship even in the face of inevitable separation. Still retaining some semblance of romantic optimism at the tender age of 24, I was very much of the “no day but today” school of thought. The “let’s be happy today and not worry about tomorrow” mantra. He didn’t want me to get any closer and risk making it any harder.

So who was right? I still cried. But maybe not as much as I would have? I still loved him, but maybe not as much as I could have? Did we wasted precious time together or did we soften the blow?

While logically I know that it’s self defeating to keep worrying about the evitable and to let it spoil the time you have left; part of me hopes that whatever walls and barricades I’ve managed to build, will still be standing after the next two weeks.

Frankly, with the cloud of separation growing at an exponential pace over all my attempts to keep my blue skies blue – its hard not to feel frustrated. And angry. Even if it WAS/IS good that we met and event if he WAS good for me and what I needed circa a broken-hearted January….I’m just tired. I’m tired of the leaving and the goodbyes and the tears and building back up: a little stronger and a little thicker.

Then again, maybe its classic Scarlett – only wanting something that I can’t have. Either way, I’m sick of the walls and the floods and the storms and the survival and the reconstruction.

Isn’t there anything that lasts forever?