Ouch.

Chase broke up with me last night.

We hadn't been talking as regularly, on the phone or in texts, but I supposed we were both busy. I called him on Friday because Betsy, Jen, Robin, and Ryan may be going to New York this coming weekend (the weekend Chase was supposed to visit), and they wanted us to come with them, so I asked him about it, and he was being dodgy and uncomfortable and evasive on the phone. I was uneasy, but I tried to shake it off, but Robin and I started thinking that maybe he wasn't coming after all. It sort of lingered in the back of my mind over the weekend, but then I texted him yesterday at 4:15, and he finally got back around to me at 6:15. We texted about his sister and work for an hour or so until he finally called me.

He started by apologizing for not calling as much, and I shouldered some of the blame (the phone works both ways, after all). Then he started in with those words I hate:

"I'm just going to get right to it. This isn't working out."

"Oh. Okay."

"It's just, it's hard to not have you here. I need someone here."

"Okay."

"I was going to write a letter, but I thought you might want to say something right away, and I want to give you that chance."

"Yeah. What...When did you decide this? What brought this on?"

He paused. I had a psychic moment, It's someone else.

"I'm in love with Alli."

(For those of you who don't know, Alli is Chase's coworker. He liked her for a while, and they finally started making out/dating in May. He said 'I love you' to her, too. She didn't say it back. A few weeks later, he noticed this other guy had started hanging around Alli more and more, and when he talked to the guy, he found out that this guy and Alli had been dating for a month, at the same time she was seeing Chase. Chase was pretty upset, naturally, and he talked about it with me a lot, but I always thought that the tone of our conversations were that he had learned a lesson, that he was over it. I guess he wasn't.)

"Oh. I see. Okay."

"She told me the other day that I looked different to her, and I asked if it was because she couldn't have me. (At this point I stopped listening because it was unbelievable to me.)"

"Mmhm. And does she feel the same way?"

"I think she does. We talked a few days ago."

"Okay. Then, why did you say you loved me?"

"I felt like I did." Stab. "I shouldn't have said it." Twist.

"No, you shouldn't have."

"I felt like I owed it to you to explain all this. I didn't want to pretend it just wasn't working out."

"You're right, you do owe it to me."

So, we talked a little more. Or, rather, he talked and I listened, or half-listened. I knew it was coming, but it was still a shock, you know? It's like, when you get scared, and then a few seconds pass, and the load of adrenaline hits your bloodstream.

He tried to tell me that it wasn't about my age, or my mom's rules. Which was fine, and I believe him. He said I wasn't a distraction to him, and that things would be different if I were close by. Maybe they would be for a little while, but if he's really in love with someone else, then it would have interfered eventually.

"Look, I really care about you. You're so special. And beautiful. And the most supportive woman I've ever met. And you're so understanding."

"Yeah. Thanks. Well, I guess that's that."

"You can call me if you have anymore questions or concerns or anything like that."

"Sure. Maybe I'll see you around. Good luck with Alli. Keep going with law school, too."

"Thanks, I will."

"Goodbye, Chase."

"Bye."

And that was that.

My roommates and Robin were exceedingly supportive, which was lovely. I called Drea, who was properly scandalized for my sake, and I called Lauren--I thought it might be better if she told Mom instead. The conversation went sort of like this:

Me: Chase dumped me.
Lauren: *GASP* WHAT?
Me: *surprised* Erm, yeah.
Lauren: *Insensitive*
Me: *Less surprised*
Lauren: Do you want me to tell Mom?
Me: What do you think she'd say if I told her?
Lauren: ...maybe I should tell her.

So, she did, and I spoke to Marla, who was very comforting. She told me I was dignified and handling it so well and un-hysterically. When I got home, my Mom called, and was offended that I hadn't gone to her first. She said mostly what I expected ("I'm sorry you're sad." vs. "I'm sorry Chase dumped you."), and I sort of put her in her place when she asked why I didn't call her first:

Me; You can't be surprised that you weren't the first person I called.
Mom: Actually, I was. I figured you know that I love you even f I wasn't into the Chase thing.
Me: Remember how you felt about telling your parents when Tim bugged out? When Brian bugged out? (My mom's two fiancee's that my grandparents' weren't thrilled about.)
Mom: Okay. YES. I'm completely with you. No, I totally get it. You're right.

Ha. So, me and my roommates and Marla and Robin watched A Knight's Tale (Gah, dreadful female lead) and talked. I wrote Chase a letter, and after the movie was over, Robin made me cry, but from laughing this time. :)

I'm feeling better today, but it still hurts. I mean, it's not like he said "I made out with someone else". It was "I'm in love with someone else." With a girl who already used him and threw him away like a tissue. Who only wants him because she can't have him. Or, well, I guess she CAN have him. I'm so angry with him. But I know it's for the best if he's not going to see me as someone worthy. I want someone who loves me 150%, and he wants someone familiar that he can see and touch.

A case of irreconcilable differences if I ever saw one.

My friend Brandon kept my chin up a little with this story:

Brandon: "I was showing a coworker my facebook and how it works
And then I used your page as an example of how you can see friends, etc. (you just made a status update or something)...

Sean: Who's that?
Brandon: (clicking on your profile picture) That's my friend Alyssa
Sean: She's kinda hot.
Brandon: ......yeah.
Both smiling.
That's all."

Thank you guys ahead of time for the support that I know you'll provide, I miss you guys. And Emily--please blog up a storm so I know how you are!

Love you all,

Alyssa

Repressure: A Symphony of Ridiculous Metaphors about Concert Halls.

I'm angry. I don't know how not to be (nor should I be un-angry--I'm fully right in my anger), and I don't know how to express it. I feel like I can't.

This is not the first time I've sacrificed my own feelings for the sake of someone else's, and it won't be the last. But it really, really sucks.

Maybe I'm being too hard on the subject of my anger. But I don't think I am. I think I'm ONE of their pity-parties away from yelling and yelling and not stopping until I've reached some core piece and snapped it back into place. Whether that core piece is in me as well as in them is still out with the jury.

I want to be everything I know I am/have been--understanding, helpful, a good listener, a problem solver, an advisor, a comfort. But, well, imagine this.

Imagine a concert pianist, who is staring at a piano. You know they can play it--they played it for years, but one day they stopped, and they claimed they didn't know how anymore. You know they know how, but they ask you for your help instead. You don;t know much about their piano, but in an attempt to jog their memory, you try to teach them the scales. But instead of watching and listening, they plug their ears and hum their own tune instead. Then when you ask them to play it for themselves, they start snapping the strings under the piano's hood, almost irretrievably damaging it's ability to be played. Then they turn to you and ask for help again, but again refuse to take it. Over and over.

Okay, that was a complicated metaphor, but maybe you've gleaned something of what I mean. The point is, it's impossible to help someone who refuses to be helped. It seems simple, but once you put in the mechanics of chemicals and feelings and obligation and abandonment, it's an almost impossible puzzle.

Maybe it's not about the piano, but about that new conductor they're thinking about hiring. The conductor is a good one, and they'll definitely be good at their job, but they still refuse to make a decision about hiring them, and instead of just choosing, they call you, someone ignorant in concert hall matters, to interview the conductor and consult with the pianist. You offer your best guidance, but the pianist deliberates for so long that the conductor gets frustrated and withdraws to take an offer elsewhere. And so the pianist takes pity on the poor orchestra that was deprived of such a grand conductor by such a dreadful pianist, and instead of being proactive and giring another conductor, decides instead to allow the orchestra to fall into discord and slink off to wallow.

Well, this second fiddle isn't about to allow that.

Sheeze. I'm not sure whether to delete this metaphor or be proud of myself for being introspective for once in a long while.