I tend to think of my life in different seasons. Grad school was its own season. Grieving various friends and family have been their own seasons. Dating certain people. Some place I've lived and jobs I've had, seasons marked by various adventures in my life. And now here is another. Fred: The End.
I went on vacation last month. It was something else. Magical, even. I didn't expect him to call after our blow up, but Fred called me while I was in San Francisco, claiming that he wasn't mad, he was just busy. Bruh, I've known you for a decade, I know when you're avoiding me, but whatever. I was just glad to hear from him, especially since I'd already planned to be in Los Angeles the following day.
I arrived in L.A. and checked into a cozy little hotel in Koreatown. My new thing is that whenever I enter my new hotel is to strip naked. I had to get a parking pass for Fred and I was a bit shocked when I said to him that I had to put on clothes go let him in and his response was "don't worry about it." I should have known, but long-story-short, we enjoyed one another immensely.
Despite my itinerary calling for me to only stay in Los Angeles for a few days, being that I'm the one that made the itinerary to begin with, I essentially spent the rest of my vacation in L.A. with Fred. I couldn't help but to notice how heavily he slept, as if he really needed it. And I was glad to allow him that. He eventually told me that he'd been sleeping on a friend's couch. For the umpteenth time, I encouraged him to return to Atlanta. He responded that he is in Los Angeles to work on his acting goals. I reminded him that Atlanta is literally the best place to be to work on an acting career. He remained unmoved.
So rather than the 3 days I'd planned, I spent 6 days with him instead. My soul felt light and happy. My whole life seemed millions of miles away. It felt like we were one. But then that last day.
I'm not sure what happened. But the last morning, he raised his voice to me. I quickly checked that shit. I'm not going to let anyone yell at me. I was on edge, but I made it. We spent the afternoon running errands, and I decided to get a nice hotel for us to enjoy our final evening together. But we didn't make it. We got into it pretty bad. I damned near put him out of my car. I was shot. I was fucking done. After I dropped him off, I cooled a bit and texted him that despite it all, I didn't want him sleeping on a couch and to bring his ass to the hotel instead. He texted he might. He didn't.
I awoke the next morning and headed on to Yosemite National Park. The following day, I went home. Two days later he shot me a text apologizing for not checking in to make sure I'd made it home okay. I didn't know how to respond. I just sent him back a lot of pics that we'd taken together in L.A. I wanted him to have positive memories of us. Because we were winding down.
I knew it was over, but I couldn't shake it. I couldn't shake him or the idea of us. I knew that I could do better. The more I thought about Ted, the more I knew that he was the best fit for me. For God's sake, he sends me job listings (which I need), in addition to the fact that he truly cares. Ted checks in and if I'm having a bad day, he's the first to know. If things aren't going well for me, he actually wants to know so that he can help. I can't say any of those things for Fred.
It took a few days of straight kicks in the pants, but it finally hit home. Its done. And I'm okay with that. I'm in a good place in life. My son is good. I'm making plans. My health is good. It makes no sense to bog myself down with Fred and his egotistical bullshit. I'm good.
So moving on, I had a bit of a come to Jesus moment. I'm ready. I'm ready to tell my story. I've encountered my share of hits within the last few years, and its culminated into a strange tale of wins and losses, marked by interesting characters and movements. I'm ready to bring it forth. Let the games begin.
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