Un-knowing

I keep replaying that scene in Dirty Dancing in my head, the one where pre-nosejob (and much cuter) Jennifer Grey tells Patrick Swayze she's scared of all kinds of things, but mostly she's afraid of walking out of that room and never feeling ever again in her whole life how she feels when she's with him.  I know that feeling.  Only in my movie, Johnny doesn't take me in his arms and make love to me.  In my movie, he smiles politely, says he's sorry in a way that makes it clear he has no idea the damage he's caused, and slowly pushes me out the door.  Into the rain.  Into the blackness.  Alone.

Enlightenment is a bitch, but no matter how awful I feel--and I do, jittery anxiously angrily near tears violently pissed off heartbrokenly awful--I'd still rather be the person who says at least I was willing to get hurt for the chance at real love.  At least I wasn't afraid.

Add to that the reappearance of the man I married.  My ex-husband and I have been friends since our divorce because neither one of us could bare to be out of each other's lives.  In the last three months, I have seen in him the man I married, the man I missed so much the last two years of our marriage when he was depressed and we weren't communicating.  And, seeing him again, has made me miss every minute of our time together that was good.  I miss dancing in the car with him and making up lyrics to songs we don't know and watching HGTV and cheering at KU football games and being easy with each other in all ways.  I miss him so much, my teeth ache.

I've always argued that blissful ignorance wasn't something I would ever want, but tonight I'll fucking take it.