Of my three possibilities, Chicago remains an option, South Carolina is under a hiring freeze til January, and Ft. Worth will work as a last-ditch effort, though it could take time (that which I don’t necessarily have).

I really don’t want to leave.  For every part of me that shows an interest in exploring a new city (did you know that Chicago has its own style of blues?), five scream back at me that Dallas is my home… Dallas, where you can get pulled pork nachos at 4 am and the dancers at strip clubs *bite* you.  Yeah, our Cowboys are flaky and the only reason people go to Rangers games is for the all-you-can-eat seats, but there is a special brand of Texas-meets-the-City here (especially in the mid-cities area) that has stolen my heart.  I actually understand why one would incorporate a Lone Star into one’s home decor.  I moved here thinking it was a sacrifice, loathing the Texas ego, and somehow it became a part of me.

I can’t really blame the man for this.  Granted, the timing is piss poor, but I guess there’s never really a good time to break a girl’s heart.  I just am not what he wants.  Probably I never will be.  I’m not his type physically, I don’t like video games or science fiction or football, and I am not even that great about basic things like keeping the house clean and the laundry done.  The things we have in common (identical IQ & Meyers-Briggs personality type, philosophical and political interests) really work against us more than for us.  And he’s too emotional of a person to remain in a relationship for practical reasons, I guess.  He’s not being cruel… It was just made really clear to me that we don’t work together.

I’d be lying if I said I was okay with all of this.  The truth is that I begged him for one more chance, and that nothing would please me more than for him to ask me to stay.  But I don’t think it’s going to happen, not this time.

I don’t know how to stop loving him.  And the fact that I don’t have options makes it all that much worse.  If I had my own car, my own job, I could just shack up in a cheap motel, eat coffee Haagen Dazs, listen to Willie Nelson, and drink tequila until it got better.  But instead I’m here, where I’m not wanted, and I KNOW I’m not wanted… And I don’t have anywhere else to be, other than at my parents’ apartment in Missouri, where even the couch is already occupied.

And so it happened that my regularly scheduled tear-fest was exactly on time.