That makes it official. Every girlfriend I’ve had in the past five years has now shown up since the break-up. The set was completed yesterday morning. Some guy was buying a machine from my boss, and I knew he looked familiar. I look at the name on the invoice, and sure enough, it’s the dad of a long-ago ex. And there she is, waiting around the corner, because he’s buying the computer for her. Quick chat, exchange the emails, goodtaseeya, etc. ‘Course the email she gave me didn’t seem to work, so that may be the end of that. What the hell is life trying to tell me with this? Then a friend pops up today and offers me a helpful article about how scientists are mapping the brain areas associated with love. I’d link it, but the New York Times doesn’t use permanent links, last I heard. Anyway, part of me would scream out for a painkiller for that kind of pain. Part of me thinks such a drug would be negate the point of being human. And is it just me, or does a Subaru Outback now pass by every thirty seconds? Grrr . . .
Today I finally went out into my metaphorical back yard, the Montaña de Oro State Park. This has got to be one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, and I feel like an asshole for never having gone there before. And over the whole experience is this musty wet blanket. It weighed down every vista and every breathtaking sparkle of evening sunlight off the ocean with the fact that She wasn’t there to share it with me. Should I worry that this little pang of emptiness has become almost comforting? Then she hit me up on IM a little while ago just to chat, and part of me wanted to run away while the bigger part wanted to tell her again how I still feel. And the grown up part told them both to shut up and behave themselves, while it tried valiantly to lay the groundwork of “just” friends. I know that’s not a word that ever applies to friendship, but it communicates the idea. Anyway, for just a minute there, I had to wonder again if it’s really too late. And here I am, telling myself that yes, it is. It’s too late, because we’ve been apart longer than we were together. It’s too late because she doesn’t love me. It’s too late because we can never pick things up where we left off. I’ve been through too much pain, and she’s been absorbed in other things. And it’s too late because there’s not enough time left to rebuild before she moves away. And the stubborn little parts of me that won’t let go keep screaming that true love is the strongest, yadda, yadda, cliche, something, something! Yes, they’re that incoherent, and yes they’re that sincere. One of these days, I’m gonna bring out my song lyrics. I swear I’ll do it. Don’t try to stop me. Actually, I may be able to cobble together all the pretty little images and one liners into a song one of these days. I’ll keep my promise not to inflict it on anyone until I’m sure it doesn’t suck.
Okay, I just reread that, and I appologize. It’s a miserable piece of writing, but I’m gonna post it anyway. I’ll do my best not to write anything important after midnight from now on.
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