Something occurred to me, something that I have found disheartening.  In the five months since the Ex and I broke up, I have toyed with the idea of “moving on.”  It has not gone well.  I have formulated some excuses which have sounded pretty good to me (the pickings out there are slim, I needed time to grieve, I will be leaving town – first for a few months, then permanently, etc.).  The jarring realization is that I don’t really want to move on.  That doesn’t mean that I want to sit home and wallow in my sorrow; and while I hold out some hope that the Ex might reconsider marriage and family, I recognize it as being in the 5% range – so no, I don’t expect him to be at my door, asking me back.  I also know, much to my everlasting chagrin, that I am not built for casual dating.  I tried to rebel against that when I was younger, and it was a disaster; now that I know that I am not a dater, I’m in a much better place, although it means I spend way too many nights at home, watching documentaries on the History Channel.  Which, for those of you who remember The Breakfast Club, is “demented and sad,” but unfortunately, not social.  So let’s assess the situation:  I am realistic about the “overness” of my former relationship, yet I don’t do well, psychically speaking, with dating.  I know that I am likely to be living in another part of the country next year.  All of this seems to add up to one thing – I am destined for months of staying home nights, watching the History Channel with my cat.  This does not fill me with joy.  However, like Bartleby the Scrivener, I would rather not, so to speak, do anything.  So, instead of moving on, I’ll have to settle for moving, for changing my scenery.  For the summer, that is right around the corner – and that’s good.  For grad school, that’s over 12 months away – and I am impatient.  If I can’t seem to “move on,” why can’t I just “move?”  And why does that have to take so damn long, anyway?

On the plus side, I (predictably) logged in to check my grades.  I got another A (hooray), although my nerdy glee is tempered by my knowledge that I was most likely getting an A in that class.  It is the classes where I am hovering on the A/AB border that I need to know about.  Give me my grades, dammit!

As irritated as I seem to be, I really am in a good mood.  Well, a decent mood.

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