I cried for the next two days.
The night The Bartender left I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up the next morning I cried because I could still smell him on the pillow next to me. I couldn’t seem to get dressed so I thought a bubble bath would make me feel better. I surprised myself by the sound of my own sobs as they echoed against the bathroom tile – the same bathroom where he had lovingly washed my hair as we showered together. My cries came from a place so deep inside that I cannot even describe it. My sorrow is physical and I am consumed by it.
I finally got myself out the door and into my office. The phone rang and it was The Bartender. He called to see how I was doing. I had asked him not to call. He said he wouldn’t call, but there he was on the phone saying he missed me and talking about how his day was going. I barely got through the rest of the day. My tears would spring forth for no reason at all and I didn’t know what to do with them.
I reached out to girlfriends and I think they felt almost as helpless as I did. Was it possible that it had taken me this long to actually fall in love? I have never told my friends I loved him. I never told him I loved him. I never even told myself I was in love with him. Was I really in love? I hadn’t been compelled to say it. Neither had he. But, it had been years since I cried over a man. In fact, it had been so long that none of my girlfriends had ever witnessed it. In all the years I have been around to live and love, to the best of my recollection I have only cried such bitter tears twice before.