You: Had did the date go last night?
Me: I didn’t go.
You: Are you kidding me.
Me: No. I am not. I went out with Kermit instead.
You: You are crazy and helpless
Me: I know.
I did. I went for dinner with Kermit last night instead, in
fairness, I wasn’t in the mood to put on a smile and make casual conversation
and try to talk myself up in hopes that this guy who seems to have his shit
together will believe that I do it. Plus things are getting more serious with
Mathew Mchottie, even though he is on the other side of Canada. I had to much
on my mind, I needed to get it out and have a second opinion. Kermit, may be a
lot of things, asshole, slightly lazy, and a little bit pig headed, but he gets
me, he makes me laugh and laughs at my jokes, he listens to me when I am
worried and talks to me in a way that makes me feel better. Really if it wasn’t
for us dating we would be friends, great friends, because for some reason we
just understand each other. He helps me make sense of things in a way no one
else can and some times you just need some one to hug you and tell you not to
worry and that things will work out. I wish I could block out the anxiety I
feel about my future, I want to go back to being 20 and carefree but I can’t
block it out and the decisions I have to make weigh on me like a ton of bricks.
But that is not your concern because you aren’t my therapist and I’ll save the
mental break downs for her.
At the end of the night I drove him home, that was our deal,
I drove, he picked up the bill, so I dropped him off and he invited me inside,
it was late and I was tired and felt like I was getting sick (I AM SICK NOW!),
but I was going to come in and use his bathroom. He hugged me goodbye and you
know those hugs that neither of you want to let go, you just stand there for a
long time holding each other, then there is the awkward pull away, where you
face is so close to his that you could kiss but neither of you is willing to
make the first move.
So you stand there, in this awkward embrace, locking eyes,
not willing to make the first move, not willing to put your heart out there
again because in the 10 seconds you are locking eyes all the memories come
rushing back, the memory of your first kiss, sitting on his tailgate under the
stars in the July heat, the memory of moving in together and dancing in a
kitchen full of unpacked boxes, with this feeling of hope and content and most of all happiness, of Sunday mornings holding hands and walking
through the farmers market, just happy to be with him, bringing home a puppy that you both grow to love
like it was a child, watching him cry as his sister walks down the aisle hoping
that you’ll be next to wear a white dress with your daddy walking you towards
him and he will cry because he is so happy to make you his wife, the hopes that
your children will get his eyes and your smile.
Then there memory of your first fight creeps in and the
first time he made you feel like you weren’t good enough, the first time he put
another girl before you and left you home alone crying asking yourself why you
weren’t good enough for him, the memory of the first time he cut you down in
front of all your friends, the memory of hopelessness you felt when every thing
was falling apart and your dreams of loving this man forever were crumbling
right before your eyes, the memory of you begging him to stop hurting you, to
love you, to want you, to need you, the memory of all your hopes and dreams
breaking into a million pieces as you fall to the floor because you are crying so hard and then, the memory of
you walking away, finding the strength to love yourself again, packing the life you build with a man for the last three
years into 8 boxes…and him not chasing you, the memory of you closing the door
like he closed his heart forcing you to walk away. The first step into your new
house, and the second, third and fourth step of you running into your fathers
arms crying because it hurts so much to love a man that doesn’t love you. The
memory of all the faked smiles and laughs, the memory of trying to hide the pain you feel, the memory of your closest friends seeing how broken you are and they're empathetic smiles, the feelings of loneliness as you crawl into bed, alone again, so you reach to any one who gives you the false sense of love, of longing, of need, even though the void is never filled because you were left with nothing…the memory of feeling dead, broken
hearted and helpless.
Then the memory of the first time you felt like you made
it out alive, that you survived the break up and even though you thought you would
never be okay again…you are.
So let you let go of him, you stop, you pull away, and
his hands fall to his side, and he kisses your forehead, and your heart sinks
just a little and you turn to walk out the door again because it’s not longer
“our” home, it’s his, and the picture of you two doesn't hang on the wall any more, it was taken down months ago in the first post break up war. So you say goodbye, because you remember that you left for a
reason and he didn’t come after you for a reason, even though you prayed to God he would. God did you pray. You remember that your
relationship broke for a reason. A reason that you didn't want to accept but eventually you had to. So you get in your car, you turn on the radio,
light a cigarette, inhale, fight back the tears and drive away.
You take the night for what it was, two
friends who needed to talk, who needed help and were there for each other. Not
two people who were once madly in love, who couldn't stand to be away from each other, who craved and needed each other, because you aren’t those people any
more. And truth be told, you know you haven't been in a long time.
But you made it out alive and you're okay. So tell yourself it will be alright. Wipe away the tear and smile, because hopefully some day, you will find some one who loves as hard as you do and it wont end with a warm embrace between friends.
