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I abhor closing the door. It an act that’s almost impossibly difficult for me to do.
Yet it’s undeniable that relationships will change over time, so instead of closing the door on a changing relationship, I try to renegotiate, redefine, reframe it into something that will work in the present.
Examples, you say? You want examples? Former lovers. My parents. Even the stb-ex. At least a baker’s dozen times I’ve held fast while things morphed into a new sort of normal for that particular relationship.
As much as I might have been tempted to slam the door on some of those relationships, I can’t. Or won’t. Or…whatever. In each case it seemed like there was something there worth salvaging, even though things certainly didn’t end up the way I originally envisioned.
I’m not overjoyed, for example, that my marriage has crumbled into dust. But I’m damn pleased that we can still parent the children together. There’s an ex-lover (or two) from the past (um, maybe three) with whom I would have been thrilled to take things further, but time or distance or some other complication made that unwise. I’m okay with the fact that things ratcheted down to the level of friendship.
Those relationships have parts that are worth saving. They’re worth the continual struggle. I think. Most days I think so.
But now, there’s one relationship I can’t seem to get renegotiated. It works for a while but then there’s a blowup. Feelings get hurt, tempers rage and then boom, the door slams shut.
From his side. I’ve not yet given up on the idea having some kind of ongoing friendship with him, but I question if this is wise. I haven’t counted how many times in the past several weeks that he’s called it quits with me; my guess is that it’s a number that would equal if not exceed the total number of times I’ve been broken up with in my entire life to date.
That’s really kind of not so much fun.
And yet every time (er, so far) he’s ended up cracking the door back open again and peeking ’round the edge. And every time I’ve nudged the door a little wider with the hope that we can work out a new kind of friendship.
Gingerly we’ve poked at the painful places, wondering if it’s best to explore them further or let them go. We’ve danced around hurts from the past, trying to explain or apologize or just move on. We’ve talked endlessly about how to get along as friends—only friends ferchrissake!—but even that seems like too much.
One wrong word, one ill-timed turn of phrase, one small misstep and it all crashes down again. The door slams. We’re done.
It’s frustrating. It’s…well, I think I’ll just leave this written and deleted and written and deleted paragraph at this: It’s so frustrating.
I question each time it happens if I should keep the door shut. If it would be better for everyone (most especially him) if I refused the invitation when tempers cooled and the door cracked open again.
But each time I answer. I keep on answering. And I’m pretty sure that makes me nothing but a big stupid door-closing-phobic idiot.
Right?
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There’s swag tomorrow, this time from Babeland.
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We’ve been posting toy reviews like mad over at Jane’s Guide … go check it out.

Monet Lingerie, Sexy Lingerie and Stiletto Heels
