Message in my Box

The Man’s best friend emailed me yesterday.

I wasn’t, and actually am still not, wholly sure how to respond to it. So I haven’t. I stared at the email, and forwarded it on to a few friends (nothing is safe with me, I will CNN anything and everything… be forewarned). I started to respond a couple times, and promptly deleted them.

I am officially over it, over him. I mean it. Absolutely maybe.

I looked back at the email I had sent her a month ago, and it was obviously sent out of desperation. It reeked of “I am trying to weasel my way back into his life” and I wouldn’t have responded either if I were her.

Bitter isn’t pretty on anyone, but sometime it feels comfortable to wear.

After work I got into my car and checked my voicemails from the day. My voicemail box will prompt me to resave messages every couple of weeks. The first one: “Hi Sweet Pea, it’s me…” The Man. I resaved it.

Why do I do this? Why did I do this?

Now I will say I have A TON of saved voice messages. A funny story or two from girlfriends; An angry shoe-repair man yelling at me in his strong Korean accent to come get my shoes; M&M, Da Bod, EB, TM, CM, my mama and Hot Momma telling me how great I am… how they can’t (oh wait yes they can) believe what I did… what’s up… etc.

I save them. I resave them. I like to rehear them occasionally. I like to laugh, to be reminded of a moment in time, of what someone’s voice sounds like (I swear TMs voice can… oooo doggie… hottest ever). I guess it’s nice to be reminded of each of them.

But when should this end? At what point do I say, 'forget it' and delete it? Am I holding on to The Man’s messages to merely remind myself that there was a time when he acknowledged my existence… that I was of some value in his life. Why does any of that matter now?

I guess it’s time. Moving on in life includes all of the little things, even messages from another time. I’m going to delete them today. Absolutely maybe.