Wednesday, May 25, 2011

I had imagined how this would transpire many times on the way to his house after work recently but always ended up with a fake smile and a kiss on his cheek when I reached his door.  

Until today.

It had become very difficult for me not to feel child-like in his presence, waiting for him to tell me what I had done wrong.  Whether it was the fact that I left water on the floor in the bathroom after a shower or that I didn't walk my dog for what he deemed as a sufficient amount of time, I simply wasn't doing life right.

He had picked up on the fact that I was someone perpetually jammed into 5th gear we began dating a year ago, and he noted it, but it wasn't until this week that he sent me a picture text of a box of cereal that I had ripped open, leaving the perforated tabs to fend for themselves, no longer able to interlock because of my carelessness.  Yes, I agree that it must have been annoying for him to see that I was in such a state of rush that I didn't have time to open a cereal box correctly, but it was just as annoying to come home from a long day at work to his lesson of the day.

Wasn't the man I was meant to be with supposed to laugh at this maniacal aspect of my life, knowing full well that I had a lot on my plate?  

I sent him a text as I waited for the light outside his neighborhood to turn green that said, "this is not how I'm built." He's not a woman so he didn't pick up on the fact that this line was stolen from Jerry Maguire, as Dorothy explains to Jerry that she knows he's not actually in love with her and she can't continue to pretend their marriage is real.  She admits she's fallen in love with the idea of the relationship more than the relationshp itself. 

I often wonder if he knows what love is.  He admits he has never heard of unconditional love until I came along and explained the term, secretly hoping he would get the hint.  Unconditional; accepting of flaws; understanding of mistakes; love knowing no bounds.

When my doorman called me last night to tell me a package had arrived for me, I knew it was from him. I ran to the elevator hoping he had returned my glasses.  Did I also hope that there was at least a Dear John letter explaining that he did love me more than any other woman he's ever been with, did think I was amazing, did try, wished me the best and would never forget me?  Perhaps.  Did I simultaneously play a scene in my mind of me exiting the elevator to him standing there, tall and handsome as ever, smug smile slightly hidden by his beard, awaiting an embrace from me?  Maybe.

What I got was a bag of junk.  An old rusted razor that I had left in his shower, an empty box of dog treats that I had bought for his terribly neurotic dog (the apple does not fall far from the tree?), a few of my t-shirts, my glasses and the tiny pebble I had given him after a walk, just for fun.

Without words, he had said too much.

My first reaction was--excuse my french--a giant "fuck you, you fucking awful fucking fucked up asshole!"

However, a wave of calm - a gift from my inner self perhaps - came over me, buying me time to compose myself.  I shed only about three and a half tears, laid in the foyer of my apartment with the bag of shit next to me and realized that this could not go on. 

His lovely parting gift may have been his way of baiting me to react.  He may have wanted me to break the silence and berate him with texts and calls and tears and screams and "fuck you's", and I will not lie -- you're damn right I thought about shipping the running shoes he got me that I don't like to his front door. I thought of driving to his house in the middle of the night to "decorate" the lobby of his apartment with aggressively ripped open cereal boxes.  I even thought about cutting up the blanket he left in my car and decorating his car with the pieces.  However, the fact that his deceased mother gave him the blanket stopped me dead in my tracks.  

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Playing catch up.

I have been putting off writing this post because every time I felt the urge to write about my life, something else happened!  It has been an eventful month, full of ups and downs and this ways and that ways.  For instance:

  1. My best friend from high school got married to her high school sweetheart. 
  2. I got the worst haircut of all time.  
  3. I had an emotional breakdown over it.
  4. I was a bridesmaid.  
  5. With a men's crew cut.
  6. I - again - had an emotional breakdown over it.  
  7. So did my Mother.
  8. I got extensions.
  9. No, I will not elaborate.
  10. My brother graduated from college.  
  11. The family (including myself) trekked up to northern New York to celebrate with him. 
  12. I almost died while I was there. 
  13. I went to the dentist.  This is a big deal.  
  14. So did my Mother.  This is an even bigger deal.
  15. Oh my goodness, I almost forgot:  I celebrated four years of sobriety. 

Instead of relaying every nook and cranny of the above fifteen points, I've decided that I will post photos that I've taken during these events.   We'll see if I can have enough self control to keep this post concise and to the point allowing the photos to speak for themselves (other than my captions).

{Christine looks at herself for the first time in her wedding dress on her wedding day}

{The watermelon bridesmaids before the ceremony}

{Yes, my friends, those bangs are in fact extensions.  They hurt.  Pain is beauty?} 

{Sisters with the soon-to-be graduate.  This was before we owned the dance floor.}

{Basically my only calm moment whilst staying at the lake house during brother's graduation weekend in NY.  There were cats there.  I'm severely allergic to cats.  I may or may not have contemplated jumping into the lake never to be seen again, but decided it was probably too cold.}

{A wonderfully poignant quote found in ELLE magazine while waiting for the dentist.}

{It's important that I give a little face time to my cup of coconut milk Capogiro.  I can't explain why.}

{To Thine Own Self Be True.  Four years of living proof.}