If anyone was paying attention to my last post, they would’ve read about me fretting over communication with an ex:

<<I never heard back from him.

And I suppose I didn’t expect to.

It’s just that…

I sent that e-mail from work.

My work, which has a habit of eating incoming e-mails that are not from work-related e-mail addresses.

And lately, I have been wondering if perhaps, he DID write me back and my e-mail account at work stopped it from going through? WHAT IF THAT HAPPENED? What if that very important e-mail is LOST in cyberspace!?!? What if there was something I needed to know?!>>

If anyone continued to pay attention to that post, they would’ve noticed a comment from said ex:

<<While cruising the interweb I checked this site and found that you are still posting away.

Never did get that email from you…

If you are not involved in the situation, you would’ve perhaps been mildly intrigued. “Woah! He never got the e-mail! GOOD STORY.”

If you are involved in the situation, you would’ve reacted like this: OMFG THIS IS THE MOST INTENSE DRAMA OF MY LIIIIIIFE!

And initially you would play the victim:

WHAT ARE THE CHANCES THAT THE ONE DAY YOU POST ABOUT HIM, HE ACTUALLY READS IT!? Why are you SO STUPID!?!?

After I sufficiently beat the crap out of myself, I nervously tapped my fingers against the keyboard at work while re-reading the last part of his comment.

“Check your e-mail.”

Wait.

Check my e-mail because he’s sending me an e-mail?

Or, check my e-mail because it’s faulty? As in, make sure I actually sent it?

WAIT.

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! And how many times can I possibly say the word ‘e-mail’!? E-mail e-mail e-mail and then my blackberry buzzed. I snatched it up and sure enough there was an E-MAIL from him.

My stomach dropped onto the floor below my desk and I clicked it open. The details are irrelevant I suppose…and personal. There was misinformation and a lack of communication and he never responded to my e-mail because he never received it.

So, I sent it again.

We went back and forth a few times and after some hazy misunderstandings, we were able to get on the same page. We will never be the ex’s who chat often or hang out in groups. We may exchange information occasionally, if we move or get a new job or have a baby. I’m honestly not quite sure. I do know that we will never end up together but that we both will only ever view the other in a positive light.

I left work around six, put my headphones on and cried for three city blocks. And then it was over. I didn’t have it in me to grieve. There was nothing to be sad about, no need to waste tears on something that was truly for the best.

An underlying issue which seems to permeate every aspect of my life is the inability to trust decisions I make. I think a lot of it is my innate perfectionism and my fear of being “wrong”. I have such a hard time committing to a man because I don’t want to make the wrong choice. Often, it’s easier to remain indecisive than to make up my mind. But I am learning that decisions are part of life and indecision and ambivalence lead to paralysis.

You can have an amazing mind, body and soul connection with another but if you are heading in two separate directions, it simply can’t work. More importantly, as sad as it is, there is nothing WRONG with that. For so long, I’ve questioned whether or not I’m making a mistake. Is it foolish to pursue the career I’ve chosen? Does it make me an unattractive partner? Is it a waste of time, money and youth?

I think it was time for me to accept my lifestyle and stop feeling uncertain. Perhaps this ex business allowed me the freedom to own my choices, the confidence to say “No, I don’t want babies just yet.” The compassion and maturity to say “I’m sorry I can’t be that person for you but I’m so glad you found someone who can.”

Last night, I left philosophy class a little early to hightail it down to the Village. My dear friend, Sasha, was singing at a wine bar on Bank Street and tired as I was, I promised her I would be there. I squeezed into a red plush booth a little after 9 pm with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc in hand.

Sasha was beautiful and hilarious. I chatted with a few people in her improv troupe as candlelight bounced off burgundy walls. I slipped out a little after 10:30, discovering that rain had begun to fall while I was safely tucked inside. I didn’t have an umbrella and the rain felt refreshing and cool on my face. I wandered for awhile through the cobblestone streets before finally hailing a cab and collapsing in the backseat.

I know people roll their eyes at the cliche of the twenty-something in the city, trying to find herself. It’s a nebulous idea and I’ve questioned the importance of it myself. But this is what that actually means–learning about the kind of girl I am, the kind of girl I wish to be and the kind of partner who might fit into my lifestyle and accept me as I am instead of what he wishes me to be.

It is definitely not the life for everyone but it is for me, for now. Sipping white wine late on a Monday night, surrounded by artists who make me laugh, able to relax and just be. No more second guessing, uncertainty or fear: I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.