What do you do when your lover tells you he slept with another woman? You spend the night at his place, because you're too drunk to leave. And you wake up in the morning with all of your clothes on sleeping in the bed upside down, and it's only in the morning that you take off your jeans and your shirt because you are uncomfortable after sleeping the entire night in all of your clothes. He's laying on the floor without a blanket, all of his clothes still on and you ask
"Why didn't you sleep with me last night?"
The question seems a little outrageous, even to you, considering the circumstances of the last thing you remember before you blacked out.
But you feel abandoned and hurt and want your lover to grab for you and hold you and push back the morning light and return into the darkness of the night before. If you could, you'd go back in time to the moment you decided to drink yourself into darkness and tell yourself not to.
"Stay present, Chloë. Push the glass of wine away, there is something to learn in this moment, don't run."
The next morning, you invite him to get off the floor and into bed with you as you trip and momentarily lose your balance making your way to the bathroom, still drunk, hanging on to the wall for support.
Pissing in the toilet, you wonder "is this it"?
Is this where you go back to hating men and making excuses?
You go back to bed in your underwear and bra, he's laying there now, right side up in the bed, and you don't look at each other's faces.
It still feels familiar and warm and safe to crawl into your lover's bed and lay beside him and you want him to grab for you and hold you and take up all the space that is between you.
Yes, you heard him telling you he slept with another woman.
And then you can't remember anything else after that except him pouring you another glass of wine. You didn't get angry or cry, in some strange way you knew.
You invited him to bring you here. You got what you asked for.
The act had taken place weeks ago, and truly, the act wasn't what upset you.
What's upsetting you is, the space that has grown between you and your lover.
The earth has opened up, the ground split beneath your assess as you were sitting on the floor crossed legged facing each other when he told you. You were sitting on the floor because sitting on a chair would have been too high up off the ground and you may have fallen off into the crevasse that was formed when the earth shook as he told you what you already knew.
Back in bed, you fall into a hangover induced sleep, laying next to your lover. The bed is so small and yet he's not touching you, even though you're laying there in your underwear.
"Socratic irony" comes to mind as you're positioned next to him on the edge of the cliff about to be consumed by the catastrophe of human emotions, you just want him to grab for you and hold you so tight that you can't doubt his determination to never let you go.
You crave his manhood. You silently pray.
"Don't let me go. Please hold on to me." He's snoring.
"How can you be snoring at a time like this?"
"How dare you snore when I'm laying here in my underwear."
You sit up in bed, you can't take the snoring anymore.
He wakes himself with his own snoring and says out loud "I'm sorry."
But he didn't mean "I'm sorry for sleeping with another woman." He wasn't saying he was sorry that he had stopped touching you when you were laying around in your underwear. He said he's sorry he was snoring.
You don't want him to be sorry for any of it, you want him to sit up in bed and make you stay.
Instead, you put on your shirt and then your jeans, determined actions, and in each movement you hope you will be stopped, you zip the zipper on your jeans and button the button, and then you put the right boot on and zip the zipper and then you put the left boot on and zip the zipper.
You say, "Where are my car keys?" and he responds "They're in your jacket pocket" and you have a flash of memory from the night before.
What you are left with is a powerful fantasy that you were having of two lovers on the precipice of greatness. You remember you were sitting beside him and you felt the world spinning under your feet and he was your King and you were his Queen. The earth was spinning and the energy was spinning around you and through you, intoxicating, a brush of his hand on your leg was like the electrical current of a billion converters channeling the power supply of the Universe.
Now, you've got your right hand in your jacket pocket holding your car keys as you open the door with the other hand.
You leave the apartment and leave him.
You are walking away from him, but the thing is, it is you, who feels abandoned.
Instead of driving home you go to the park and sit in your car and watch the robins pick earthworms out of the ground.