a funny thing happened on the way to the State game.

Before I began dating Dice, there was really only one other man with whom I had had a significant relationship. We dated through most of my time in undergrad and throughout his time in medical school. We discussed marriage, how many kids we would have, when we would have them, what we would name them, where we wanted to settle once he was done with residency. Six and a half years we were together. And then he made a decision, a week after looking at bright shiny trinkets. And now, I can really understand how thankful I am that he made the choice that he did.

We vowed to remain friends. Mostly because I was desperately holding on to something... a thin hope that there was still a chance. I don't know what his reasoning was. I'd like to speculate that maybe he knew he made the wrong decision, and that he didn't really want to let go of me. He always told me that he was "leaving the door open" for us to get back together.

Last fall, we had spoken seriously about whether or not we wanted to rekindle something. He told me that he wanted to "think about it" for a while. He was going to be around the weekend of the Michigan State game, to which I had tickets, and I invited him to come with me. He waffled. I reached my threshold. And something deep inside of me told me that it wasn't worth hanging on to anymore, this thin, thin piece of string. And so I let go.

Jules was in town, and I was more than happy to give the ticket to her, to have her accompany me. Julie had never said she loved me and then broken up with me the next week. And together she and I had a better time than I could have fathomed. We carted a case of Blue Moon from tailgate to tailgate. It was a perfect day for a football game.

I was more than delighted when a few of my ex's best friends hunted me down. I called him on the phone to gloat, got his voicemail, and left a pretty awesome message - making sure to yell, "ZOOM! STOP GRABBING MY ASS!" because, well, Zoom was grabbing my ass (surprise, surprise.) I was all about the vindication at the time.

Once I finally, finally let go of that string of hope, I could finally start moving on with my life. it was one of the greatest things that happened to me. Two months later, Jayhawk introduced the notion that Dice and I would be good together and if I hadn't let go, I wouldn't have even considered that thought. And look where we are today.

In the time since Dice and I started talking, and then dating, my conversations with my ex have gotten more and more sporadic. And I guess it was stupid of me... to assume that we'd still stay friends even after one of us moved on (gasp!). But he's the one who ended it. he's the one who said he didn't love me anymore. so why should me moving on be an issue? he told me he just wanted us both to be happy, but now I am, and having a conversation with him is painfully awkward.

We've hardly spoken since Dice and I started dating. Maybe a couple of times. And since Dice moved to Chicago, our conversations have become nonexistent. A big part of that is because I was always the one initiating. Always the one making the calls and suggesting we get together. And I really just don't have the desire, or the energy, to keep any sort of relationship with him (even just an amicable friendship) in tact.

I'm going to Indy in a few weeks for a conference. I emailed him a month ago, asking if he wanted to grab lunch, since Indy is where he is in residency. I was greeted with a "Yo" and told that "if [he were] in town, we could get together." I called last week to firm up plans and haven't gotten a response. But, you know, he's had time to stalk me on the intarwebs. awesome.

I find myself fluctuating between disgust and apathy. If the reason why he stayed so close to me after we parted was because he wanted to stay friends, why he stayed in touch so frequently was because he wanted to support me and see me happy, then why the abrupt avoidance? friendships are conditional, it seems... that condition evidently being that I remain unattached and not move on with my life. I think about this, and I think about confronting him about it, and then I realize that I just. don't. care. It's not even worth the effort.

It's weird (and kind of not) to think that someone I spent a quarter of my life with can now just *not* mean a whole lot to me. But people change. It's not like I haven't seen it before. Or even recently, for that matter. But I am glad that my experience with hari has taught me to value what I have in the present. To clarify for me what I want in a companion. I don't say things like this that often on here because they are just WAY too mushy to put in print. But I have never felt so completely loved in my life than I do now. And there are times when I know that the man I thought that I wanted to marry could never just look at me the way he does.

I just hope Dice can see that underneath my eye rolling and exaggerated "yes, I know you love me"s, I'm looking back at him same way.