One night, when Shane and I were still together, I couldn’t fall asleep. The only logical solution was to go to his apartment and fall asleep with him, in his bed. I knew this would comfort me. I gathered some things that I would need in the morning (face wash, clothes, class binders) and headed to his place.
I knocked a few times on his bedroom door, and he didn’t answer. I didn’t want to wake him with a phone call, as that seemed harsh. When he didn’t come, I gave up and walked back to my car, scolding myself for being so “crazy.”
His roommate texted me, as he was awake and had heard my knocks. I went back and talked to him for a while. In time he convinced me to just crawl into bed with Shane. When I made it to the next room over, Shane was surprised to see me, but not in the terrified sense that I had anticipated.
The whole time I had been gathering my things at my apartment and while I drove over, I told myself that I was “crazy” and that needing him to fall asleep would “freak Shane out.” This self-deprecating behavior is very typical of me, and was very unnecessary in this situation as he was not put off by it at all.
I think of this tonight, as again I cannot fall asleep. I have had many nights like this, especially since we broke up. I can’t seem to stand my bedroom. But now there isn’t another bed to crawl into.
After spending my Friday evening with friends I have made through my relationship with Shane, I have a new theory of the reason for our parting: he is afraid.
I want so badly to let him know that he has nothing to fear; that we’re in this together and everything will work out somehow. There’s no need to look far ahead and play “What If.”
I am incredibly tempted to pack up, drive to Highland Road and knock on his bedroom door. I was terrified of what would happen when we were together – I wouldn’t know what to expect now that it’s been “over” for almost three weeks.
I have made many attempts to get my feelings out of my system and calm down: I’ve made a mix CD, written two letters and watched three seasons of “Sex and the City.” I gave him the CD; I still have the letters; the third disc of season four has been skipping. I’m fresh out of ideas and in desperate need of sleep.
