Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Hitting the Delete Key

Last week I had a bit of an emotional setback. Mr. Corkscrew sent me an e-mail. Not a “Hi, just wanted to see if you’re still breathing,” like the Mad Scientist sent me when I was in London and he was on his way to Paris (but had no time to see me-ouch), but hi via LinkedIn. It was a request to connect with him, “a friend.” He plugged in my name and clicked the friend button. And if that wasn’t enough, he said, “I would be honored if you’d ‘connect’ with me.” And he put a little smiley face behind it, like he was trying to be all suggestive, yet businesslike. “Connect.” What is that, corporate talk for a roll in the hay?

I hate it when someone I’ve held on such a pedestal comes back after a year or more of me dutifully trying to regain my self respect and forget all about just how not into me he really was. And then there he is – bam. Right in my face. And usually, right in my heart all over again. I wanted to write back and tell him I tried “connecting” with him for six years and that got me nowhere. I wanted to tell him he was a big, fat, jerk. But instead, I did something I’ve never done before. Nothing.


What would it feel like, to do nothing? To not unload my hurt and confusion on his plate? Not give him the upper hand by knowing he can still manipulate my heartstrings like a puppet? Not be the weak one?

Actually, it feels pretty good.

It’s been five days and I still have no urge to hit reply. Instead, I hit delete.

This is HUGE for me. I’m a writer. I don’t not write back. And I never delete. Hanging on to old emails, old texts and phone numbers is my stupid link to the men who don’t want me. It’s a whiff of the familiar, the faint memory of a time when I held his hand, or I nuzzled my face against his neck. Looking at the names of those men made me feel like they were still in my life. Even though it was painfully clear they weren’t.

I can’t explain why I do this. Why I keep their memories around. I guess I have always kept a permanent address in the past. But things have changed. I’m 31 now, and feel a little bit taller. I like who I am just a little bit more. I recognize what I don’t want anymore. I don’t want to stay in a place where I’m not welcome.

I’m worth more than that. And I’m certainly worth connecting with people who actually want me around. That’s right, Mr. Corkscrew. You heard me. Go “connect” with yourself. You were never really that great of a networker anyway.

2 comments:

Date Girl said...

I'm proud of you! I bet that was hard to do, but you're worth more than that. Don't network with that idiot. You deserve a guy who recognizes what he has when he has it.

Hardt in the City said...

You have more will power than I usually do... I'm the queen of answering the Ex's emails, which always leads to answering that door late at night! Which never is a good thing!!!

Good Job!