Bridges (again)

Another Bridges marathon last night. 

"To ancient evenings and distant music."


There's something about the movie that I like, the long looks between Francesca and Robert.  They captured this on screen so very well that the viewer can literally feel the attraction, the love, between them.


Why do I put this movie in?  Sometimes I watch because I'm sad and can identify.  Up until a week ago, I haven't had a Bridges marathon in a very long time.  Just over a year.  Why again last night?  Because I was angry, correction, am angry.  I tried to reason it out in my head, to examine it in full, because that sometimes helps me get past all of it.

Two kinds of angry.  Angry at myself for being a fool, for allowing myself to believe in lies, for not demanding answers, the truth, when something didn't sound just right.  Why was I willing to accept the surface without digging deeper?  Is it my loneliness that does it?  Or my desire to feel loved and wanted, that I'm willing to put up with less than I deserve?

And anger at him, how DARE he think he can make promises and such when he's not free to do so?  And anger over the fact that because there were lies and false promises, it ruined a very good friendship. 

I don't know who reads this, if he does or doesn't.  Do I care?  If I knew, would I be as open with my feelings?  A little bit of counseling goes a long way, and I'm working with someone who is a big help.  Mostly.  We still have points of contention over what was real, and what was lies, being played by a player. And now I've begun to ramble.  I tend to do that when my thoughts and feelings are all over the board.

What would I say if I was certain he reads this?  I'd say "When we first met, I was a wreck coming out of a marriage that was full of lie, and cheating, and I had no belief in myself.  Over time, you showed me that I was worthy, that what my ex did was his own faulty self, and nothing to do with me. You helped me believe that I deserved better."   But you kept up your pretense of being single.  And now I'm still not sure about anything else you've told me either.  How can that be any kind of friendship?"

Ok, I'll be brutally honest here with myself .... I'm certain he doesn't read this, or any other of the things I post.  Over the years, I've been open with him, he knows the different places I go, the places I post pictures.  I'm betting he's too busy with someone else who's "taking my place" to even bother looking.  Eh.  Why do I care? Why does that bother me?  It shouldn't.  And yet it shakes my very foundation to realize if that's the case, then his words on a screen about feelings were just that:  words to make me believe all the lies. Another woman blogged about being thrilled to getting a phone call -- and I'm assuming it was from him, because the blog title she used was his phone number!   (Ok, now I'm smiling at myself, because women google men all the time.  Do men not realize that??? gods, the things you find out if you make only a tiny bit of effort) 

Oh to be held the way Robert holds Francesca, to hear the words "come away with me". 

I ache inside, chastising myself for watching, and for wanting that. 
It's a movie, it's fake, I tell myself.  But why does it feel so real then ?

"Some people search all their lives for this and never find it., others don't even think it exists", he tells her.

"We are the choices that we have made."

"I'm only going to say this once.  I've never said it before........
this kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime."



**cue swelling orchestral music as the dust rises
from the wheels of his pickup truck in the sunlight
as he drives away **