I am not going to write about the other any more but I am going to write about what it feels to not have that delicious daily contact with a man who wants to hear your voice or get your emails.

Even though it just ended I am unusually happy.  It takes a great deal of energy maintaining a long distance relationship.    A great deal of wasted time wondering and planning.   If I asked once I asked a million times when he was going to come visit me.  It was that sort of anxiety I am happy to jettison.

Alone does not mean lonely.  I am not just going to let anyone in simply because I can’t face the idea of being on my own.

I am not lonely, I have so many extraordinary people who catch me as I begin to fall. Everyone at breakfast told me how happy I looked.  I am happy.  I made the right decision.  I did it right.

Look, as time passes the prospect of meeting anyone appropriate diminishes. I knew what I was getting myself into when I met him.  The intrigue was a powerful part of the attraction-until it wasn’t.  The prospect of being a boyfriend was quickly replaced with the role I am often cast in, that of rescuer, therapist and problem solver.

I had a wonderful morning with Jennie and Guinevere who is as funny as all hell.   I can’t possibly tell you what we spent today giggling about. It wasn’t, shall we say, politically correct.  That’s what you get when you drive around LA with a scriptwriter, an ex-porn star and two dogs in a beaten up F150.

Who do I turn to when things get really sad?  Joni Mitchell of course!

But here I am jigglin’ like a cabbage patch doll at my desk-not in my bed desperate for answers.   How did that happen?  Why am I not sad?  Is it because the sun is shining or because I am relived to be away from the emotional catastrophe?

Of course I miss him but when things end they end.  It’s not like we can’t see each other as friends.   In some future place when time has passed.    I wonder if that is possible?  If you compare him to my other friends is he up to par?  I hope so but I don’t know yet.  Love blinds one to the hard facts.    I remember when I used to stay with Celia in Yorkshire with some admirer and she would scowl at me because what I saw in my beau my more critical friends, like Celia, failed to see.

At the end of the day I don’t depend on another to make me happy, clinging to a man for validation.    When I sleep in an empty bed at night I sleep soundly, neither hankering for a man beside me or a warm body simply for the sake of it.

I spent the morning with my friends, firstly at breakfast then driving home.  Now I am sitting on my own, writing this and listening to Joni.  Jennie is coming by later to take me up Runyon. The little dog can’t wait!

What is the cure?  No, not love.  I loved him.  I loved them all.  The death of love has taught me that I am very dangerous.  But that is why I wake up every morning like a boy!  Even now.  Let me tell you once again, let me take to the roof of my apartment building in Hollywood California and shout out loud that I am not afraid.