Rockstar Writer's heart gets a last minute repair job***I’m sorry KD, I may not be able to have relationship-talk with you so as to maintain your sanity, which is totally cool. But the premise of this blog must live on! ***
It’s amazing how life changes at the drop of a dime. You’re having a shitty day and out of nowhere, something happens to change your fortunes, morph your perspective, and maybe just have a lasting impact on your future sort of like that really bad Ashton Kutcher film The Butterfly Effect.
Just over a month ago, I meet someone. Someone cute, smart and funny who I enjoy being around that can carry a conversation past, "I need another drink." We hang out, I start to like her, I think she starts to like me for reasons unexplained, then I start to get excited like when I was 8-years-old on the Christmas Eve I asked Santa for the electric racetrack before I found out it didn’t work a well as it did in the commercials. Then perhaps I get too excited and she starts to look at me like I’m walking down the street naked a little too often.
Anyway, to make a long story short, we stop seeing each other. Partly because I’m a freak (true), partly because she doesn’t like electric racetracks (not true), and for other reasons I’m not going to get into here. I go back to hanging out by myself. I am no longer excited. I start to act like Rudolph in that Christmas movie before Santa starts having a problem flying his sleigh in the dark. No, I don't have the red nose, but with the red cheeks that come with the requisite post-break up binge drinking.
A week passes with no end in sight to feeling that comes with the knowledge that another person I actually wanted to share more than a month of my life with, did not feel the same. My insecurities have their way with me. No matter what I do, I can’t ignore them, the way you can’t ignore the next-door neighbours having loud sex through your apartment wall.
Then comes the day when she comes over to pick up her stuff. DVDs, toothbrush. The unceremonious goodbye. She comes in to talk and is gracious enough to hear out my dying wishes.
That’s when it happens. We start to wonder why we’re doing this. We question our original motives for ending things. We talk like adults (I think). Eventually we come to the conclusion that we like each other too much to give up so easily. Just like that, we are back together and all is right in the universe again. And just like that, the sun is shining a little brighter today.
It’s amazing how life changes at the drop of a dime. You’re having a shitty day and out of nowhere, something happens to change your fortunes, morph your perspective, and maybe just have a lasting impact on your future sort of like that really bad Ashton Kutcher film The Butterfly Effect.
Just over a month ago, I meet someone. Someone cute, smart and funny who I enjoy being around that can carry a conversation past, "I need another drink." We hang out, I start to like her, I think she starts to like me for reasons unexplained, then I start to get excited like when I was 8-years-old on the Christmas Eve I asked Santa for the electric racetrack before I found out it didn’t work a well as it did in the commercials. Then perhaps I get too excited and she starts to look at me like I’m walking down the street naked a little too often.
Anyway, to make a long story short, we stop seeing each other. Partly because I’m a freak (true), partly because she doesn’t like electric racetracks (not true), and for other reasons I’m not going to get into here. I go back to hanging out by myself. I am no longer excited. I start to act like Rudolph in that Christmas movie before Santa starts having a problem flying his sleigh in the dark. No, I don't have the red nose, but with the red cheeks that come with the requisite post-break up binge drinking.
A week passes with no end in sight to feeling that comes with the knowledge that another person I actually wanted to share more than a month of my life with, did not feel the same. My insecurities have their way with me. No matter what I do, I can’t ignore them, the way you can’t ignore the next-door neighbours having loud sex through your apartment wall.
Then comes the day when she comes over to pick up her stuff. DVDs, toothbrush. The unceremonious goodbye. She comes in to talk and is gracious enough to hear out my dying wishes.
That’s when it happens. We start to wonder why we’re doing this. We question our original motives for ending things. We talk like adults (I think). Eventually we come to the conclusion that we like each other too much to give up so easily. Just like that, we are back together and all is right in the universe again. And just like that, the sun is shining a little brighter today.
Oh, wait. What's that?
I'm sorry, I don't carry airline motion sickness bags with me.
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