Stuck in some semblance of negotiations, she stayed at her house with the power off, on a generator that wasn’t keeping her wifi healthy. It was going to be the reason, the day or night she came to visit my house.

Well, she came over for 30 minutes a few days ago. Maybe that was enough. That might have been the deal killer. She said a lot of nice things. She even said in a voice mail, last night,

“I was going to come over, but I guess I missed you.”

I called her 10 minutes later. She screened me for an hour and a half. So, not really interested in coming over, I see. And today, she was invited to two different events. A food sustainability rally I wanted to see. And a few bands we would’ve enjoyed. Bands not containing her husband.

She was fine. She was managing everything by herself. How did we get back to that posture? Hmm.

She opted out. It’s a common leaving pattern. Start the extraction. Remove all evidence. Remove the painful reminder of what love could’ve should’ve would’ve been like.

I guess I’ll give into the “timing is everything” idea. But, it didn’t have to go this way. She’s continually dropping “end of times” messages. Today, I simply accepted her assessments.

These “dear John” messages come once or twice a day.

Glad you’re getting over things so easily. Sad. And okay.

I had to let you go. You’re place is to find your solitude and surrender to the pain that is trying to consume you. I won’t be immoliated in the fire needed to burn out the regrets and shame of the distasteful 18 year marriage. I’m not that person.

I’m no longer the person who was here to reassure you that I could weather a lot of the noise of your divorce. I wasn’t prepared for it to be so purvasive. I wonder what I thought was going to happen?

Maybe she will make the jump to lightspeed with me. She did, for two weeks. Then she blinked. Jumped ship. Requested a pre-breakup posture. “Please take all your things back out of my house.”

Yes, ma’am.

Onnit.

And that’s it.

The March agreement was my attempt to shut down the “end times” texts from our conversation. The ceasefire didn’t last 24 hours. I guess that’s the point.

You cannot prepare for love and war at the same time.

I’m afraid we jumped ahead in our evolution together. The good news: I won’t be giving up so much of my nights and weekends to an insecure and anxious woman. I thought we had a path forward. I kept reaching for a negotiation. To my training as a life coach.

She’s doing something too, just not sure what. Isolating? Why the refusal to ever say “I’m sorry.” There is no repair when there is no awareness that something was unfair. Uncalled for.

I’m sad and listening to one of my favorite Rock Grrls, Julianna Hatfield and her new album.

Walk away, walk away, now. So sad. She was as close as I’ve ever come. I’m afraid I don’t have the stamina to stand in for what’s still ahead for her. In my coaching practice, I’d advice a man or woman to take a year before restarting their dating game.

I’m going to give her longer than that. I’m sure she will have a lot of suitors, right away. She’s amazing. And damaged. Thus, not for me. Not for now.

Crack of thunder. Strike of lightening. Now, I can decipher what was so different about this woman, and very-near-miss. So close. Not timing, this time, but maturity and ability to manage the negotiations of a health relationship. She had no examples of a healthy relationship.

None. Or, at least, no longer from me.

## 30 ##

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