She refuses to let him go and he holds her heart with clenched fist, with good intentions. But not yet.
The light switch controlling time is flipped down and will never be on her side. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Marriage on her mind, and nothing on his; that’s the way the story goes.
The jury’s out and her choice is him.
Sparkles in her eyes vs. refusal meeting her gaze.
Large hands grabbing her by her tiny shoulders. Reality shakes her into submission.
She sits and waits, and waits and sits but the timing never comes.
Move on, they say.
She never thought the moons would fall night after night with empty recognition.
Perhaps one day.
I wrote the above on the train ride home one Monday in March- iPhone in hand, furiously typing away while trying to hide the screen from my seatmate.
It’s bad enough accidentally holding my phone towards someone, allowing them to see I’m listening to Justin Bieber’s Christmas album….in the spring. But not this.
You could say I was feeling sorry for myself.
Doesn’t everyone feel a little down and out on Mondays?
There’s only so many Buzzfeed articles I can view with puppies wearing hats lying on babies, and YouTube videos of people fainting to cheer me up.
I haven’t written on here since November because I thought I had my life all figured out.
“Single life no more!” is what I wanted to yell from my second floor balcony while throwing my fist in the air, ready to face the world.
But it’s me. Shit like that doesn’t work in my favor. Like, ever.
Call it bad timing, call it me being a stubborn asshole, but settling is not in my vocabulary.
My friend sent me a quote she saw on Facebook.
“They key to succeeding in a relationship is not finding the right person; it’s learning to love the person you found.”
What the fuck?
Is that what modern relationships are made of? I read that quote and the first image that came to my mind is me “finding” a homeless guy on 42nd St., throwing him in a shower, and chocking back bile every time he kissed me. Is that what she meant by “learning to love the person you found?”
Finding the right person IS what it’s all about. Someone who doesn’t mind lying in bed with me on Saturday mornings and watch war movies because I secretly love them. Or watching him practically break his legs while trying to get into the driver’s seat of my car. Or laugh at me every time I order my drink wrong from the bartender, like my friends do.
“Grape vodka, please, with cranberry juice and a splash of Sprite”
“OK miss, so you’re telling me you want just three bubbles in it?”
“Oops! Switch the splashes! I want a splash of cran, not Sprite!”
That’s the only time in my life I’m ever dyslexic. And I want to share my grape vodka dyslexia with someone who wants to.
It’s the little bullshit things you remember at the end of a relationship, but never the big. Like the last time he kissed you, or the last time he ever told you, “I love you.”
Why don’t we ever remember?
We don’t remember because we refuse to. The promise of refusal to never feel that pain again resonates in our heads, our hearts, and in all future promises to ourselves.
Head vs. heart; the constant struggle. And this time, my heart lost.