After I left last night, M went home, and I went to my apartment overlooking the lake with a new sense of power, self-respect, and confidence.
I took a risk, I faced the uncertainty, and I was emotionally available.
Even when Patsy III followed me out of the bar, as I waited for my friend M, I didn’t react.
He walked up behind me and said, “Sean?” I turned and he said, “I’m D. I live in C-town & ©’s date and you need to leave.”
My first thought was, “You’re the new Patsy. You’re the new Hero de jour in ©’s Drama Triangle.”
I was deeply saddened.
I stuck my hand out, smiled, and offered to shake his hand and said, “I’m Sean.”
“I know who you are,” was his tough man response.
I thought to myself, “I doubt that. I barely know who I am some days, and you’ve never met me.”
He introduced himself and tried to intimidate me, I said, “This is none of your business. I don’t care what you or © wants,” and turned my back on him.
In truth, I care. I wish now in hindsight, I had said, “I care deeply about ©, but what she needs and wants isn’t my responsibility.”
Even when he tried to create a physical altercation and escalate, I simply walked past him.
When he held the door closed to the bar and pushed himself against me trying to justify more drama, I just asked him, “Are you in high school? Grow up.”
Later when he walked up to our table, sticking his finger into my face, and tried warning M what kind of man I was, I thought, “Okie Dokie.”
No adrenaline rush. No fear. No anxiety. His behaviors, his shit. His anger, his shit. I’m not responsible for how he feels or behaves either.
It isn’t ©’s responsibility either.
He made the choice to show his ass. He could have ignored me but he didn’t. Of course, he made sure he didn’t do any of in front of ©. She is no more responsible for his feelings and behaviors that I am for hers.
I said to M later, “Of all the things he could pick out to tell you, he chose the fact I sent © two books for her birthday?!” Seriously, I wanted to blurt out, “DUDE! Have you read my blog?!”
M has. All of it.
I adulted…and I can do that because I’m dealing with my shit, my traumas, my decisions, and my consequences. I blame no one.
The only thing I’m truly responsible for is my safety, my needs and wants and my healing. No one else.
I made sure I was always on the far side of the bar. I tried to keep my back to her to avoid watching her. I tried to focus on my conversation and dancing with M.
I didn’t make out with M in a show of manufactured PDA. I didn’t use M as a weapon or foil or lance. I didn’t revenge fuck M either. I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have normally done.
At no point did I walk up to ©, approach her, corner her, block her, or stare. I focused on my life. I focused on my moment.
I’m not sure I could have done that a week ago. I know I wouldn’t have been able to do that six months ago.
However, the gift of this experience is I was confronted with ©’s pattern. I was confronted with mine…and I created a new Pattern.