The Truth About…
As my previous post eluded to, yours truly was on a slight bender recently for many a reasons. Corporate’s been doing the work of his and his boss for the past 2 weeks, which would have been fine had I not heard ‘next week will be better baby’ come out of his mouth every week since he started at his company. In July. Of 2007. Now of course I’m not the kind of girl who sits beside her cell phone waiting for it to ring, but still. I also am a firm believer of each person having a life outside of the relationship: in fact, I demand it. But that implies that I’m at least somewhere in his life, moreso than a 10 minute conversation 1-2 times a week.
Anyway; I’ve had to fill my time with my other favourite activities: girl friends, movies, shopping (waaay too much shopping). And isn’t it odd how, when you’re starting to move in a direction that seems all your own, someone from your past swoops in and tries to tag along for the ride?
I’m talking, of course, about Toronto. My dear, dear Toronto. From 2004-2007 we were the ultimate will they/won’t they, are they/aren’t they ‘couple’ that our co-workers would just dote on, wondering when and where we would finally throw off our flirtatious whims and get together. Unfortunately, Toronto wasn’t in that spot. Not because he was 4 hours away physically, but that he was hundreds of miles away emotionally. Sometimes he’d let me sneak a peek at who he was and how he could be as a friend, a lover, and a partner. And it broke my heart, knowing that we’d never be that. As much as I wanted, want, to remain his friend, emotions are funny like that; you can’t seem to leave them in the past like that certain uncomfortable pair of shoes that looked good in the store but pinched your feet in every possible place. I guess you could say that Toronto was your typical older man; flirtatious, fabulous, oh so cool, and oh so unattainable.
A few days before my bender Friday, Toronto and I had a chat to ‘clear the air’ of the awkwardness that had surrounded our tenacious relationship. He confessed that although he felt the same way I did, that he often wondered about us, how he often thought of me, and how he thinks our relationship has not reached its pinnacle, and that who knows what the future holds in store for us; and that, he said no to us not in spite of me, but despite me … That conversation gave me a bit of closure to our dilemma, and eased our tension, along with me confessing that Corporate and I had been happily together and that I wouldn’t change it for the world. We ended the day with smiles and laughter, and a glimmer of hope that eventually we could connect in the same way we once did, if not as lovers, but as friends.
However, on Friday, that changed.
I had met up with some former co-workers of mine, co-workers that were a part of the captivated audience of the Carrie-Toronto story line. One co-worker, let’s call her Reese, after 4 or 5 Caesars and 3 tequila shots, threw her hands on the table and exclaimed “Oh Toronto; it was always going to be Carrie and Toronto…” and as I rolled my eyes and softly smiled to begin my usual retort, she followed up with “… but he’s been with ________ for a while now. Not too long after he moved.”
Instantaneously I felt my heart drop to my ileum, my half-cornered smile sink down to my chin, and my eyes widen with dis-belief. Another co-worker continued on the conversation, describing __________ and her departure and subsequent return to the company while I sat on my bar stool, staring emptily into my Alexander Keiths, which had suddenly lost all it’s flavour and temptation.
Toronto. Dating. Relationship’d.
My breathing quickened as I rushed to the ladies room, half stumbling from the drink and the news I had just ingested. All I could think as I sat down was ‘You bastard’… ‘You freakin’ bastard’. How could he have lead me on for those months before I reunited with Corporate, thinking that soon, maybe, eventually, we’d be together? If it wasn’t for Corporate… I might still be waiting. In that small, cramped bathroom stall, I realized that no matter how hard I tried to erase those memories and emotions, I still had feelings for him, and with those drunken words from Reese’s mouth, those feelings for Toronto remained unrequited.
Danni Heatley had decided to play hide-and-go-seek with my cell phone that evening, so my baby was beyond dead, and in my drunken rage I grabbed the first available phone I could find – my co-workers blackberry – and called him. I snuck away on the premise that I was checking my voicemail and asked him – well, more like yelled at him – straight out if he was with _______ and if he was, why didn’t he tell me to begin with? Why keep it a secret when I told him about Corporate?
I’m still waiting to hear from him; but in a way I guess that’s my answer. I know, it was so un-Audrey of me to do, and I could have been far more eloquent sober. But seriously; why? Why. I guess I’ll never know.