Don't

I awoke in horror at the thought of Soy contacting me, and this idea that she was doing so because she had been with Alex when Mojo died, and they ended up having grief sex. Her contacting me and adding me on FB...it tells me I am on her mind a bit. Her wanting to meet me. Her need to tell me not to worry. That these two act as if their continued connection should not make their significant others uncomfortable and threatened boggles the mind.

I looked at her profile and read her status again, and feel instantly sick. She has his habits. Granola making. Artistic and magical. I am very humble, low profile, and quiet next to her. I am glad I am going to therapy today, because all I want to do is puke for days.

I knew that Mojo's death would be a test on our relationship. He is now going into grief stage, and I know by now the arbitrary and terrifying nature of men when they go into grief and loss. I was not any good when I encountered this grief in my ex, nor other male friends. You are expected to be strong and silent, to weather their inaccessibility quietly, to love them despite all, to be a saint. I did my best for my ex, for those male friends, but I can't shake the belief that I failed because I lost them all. I must look for evidence of the contrary because it is too horrible. I must remember that "Don't take anything personal" message from the Four Agreements. It will be the most important thing, the most powerful tool I will have against the coming battle. I expect Alex to be inconsolable, a nightmare to be around. I expect to hear nothing, to do nothing, except experience his odd male acting-out of grief.

I wish I had the tools to bear the assault of icy isolation that is the male mystery of masculine unhappiness. I wish I could do for him what he could not for me. It is only fair this way--I realize. Men--well, all but Jonathan and Leo-- have been socialized to react to things in a very protective, tightly wound, and limited manner. And as such it is very hard to understand for me. And women are socialized into the opposite--although still a limited manner, I have to admit. There is that painful, excruciating divide that remains.

I don't know if I have the strength to date A. I don't know if I can do this.