How It Is, How It Will Be.

A brief look at today and tomorrow.

My on and off girlfriend of seven years kind of told me she met someone today.  I say kind of because she didn't exactly say it as it was coaxed out.  She always had a way of telling you just enough information without really explaining anything, which I eventually came to expect and quickly determined it to be a truly sickening and painful way of finding out bad news.  I would be lying if I said I didn't kind of expect it.  Just not this quick.  I was in bed with her a week and a half ago after moving her last few belongings to her new city.  I would not be at all surprised to learn that she is texting her new friend as I write this.  Making plans to meet up but letting him know she needed time to sort her feelings out but then he offers to just bring dinner over and she says yes and then they talk.  They'll talk about everything, about me, about his ex about how similar their situations are, about how that pizza was the perfect thing, and about how maybe just relaxing and having a beer sounds nice.  They'll talk about not wanting to rush things and in more quiet voice she'll repeat that she just needs some time and then she'll look at him with what I call teary eyes but what she refers to as welling and he'll say how pretty she is.  They won't say anything just before they kiss.  They will lay in bed fully clothed and she will say how nice it is to have someone to talk to in her new city, and he will tell her about his friends that she will really like.  They'll talk until dawn and laugh and say they don't remember the last time they stayed up that late.  She'll say how glad she is that it is Memorial day.  He'll say they should go do this or that.  Some cool new city activity that I wasn't interesting or interested enough to look into while I was there with her.  They will go to the zoo.  He will drive.  Once there she will think of me but enjoy his company.  She will think of the zoo in Portland.  She will think of the zoo in Kansas City.  She will think of the zoo in Minneapolis.  She will think then about the aquarium in the Mall of America.  She will think about the butterfly pavilion in Boulder.  Maybe she will think of The Nelson Atkins Museum and about our first date there.  Maybe she will think about the strangely silent room with glass doors separating it from the other exhibits, keeping the centuries old scrolls and relics sealed from the humid early summer Kansas air that fills the giant halls leading to it.  Maybe she will remember how that room smelled like cold cheesecake for some reason.  Maybe she will think about the ride home from the museum, when we discussed our favorite exhibits.  The cheese cake room for both of us.  He'll talk about this and that, the small conversations that didn't come up when they were drinking two nights before.  He'll listen to her talk about what she likes and agree that he likes those things too.  She'll tell him the things she dislikes and he'll disagree jokingly about one of them.  They will both laugh.  They will hug from the side and he will turn to her and they will kiss their first public kiss.  They will walk, side by side and point to the animals and agree that the small versions of the bigger animals are cute.  She will be happy.  They will chat about things that make him lower his brow to acknowledge that he understands.  He will nod and give reassuring touches to let her know he wouldn't make the same mistakes.  She will stop at the Gorilla enclosure.  She will well.  She hopes he won't notice but he will.  He will stand behind her and gently guide her away while he takes her hand.  She will be grateful.  On the ride home she will be wary of the radio.  She will worry about hearing any song that will remind her of me.  She hopes he won't notice.  He won't.  They will make small talk about how hungry they are, about what sounds good to eat, not Mexican.  They both had that recently.  He will say he knows some great place but it will be packed.  Typically people that are hungry don't want to wait for a table but because this is new they won't mind.  They will hug and stand close and whisper things to each other and giggle.  They will quietly enjoy the glances of elderly couples and the blatant stares of young ones.  They will have a drink while they wait.  She wrinkles her brow with inner amusement about how nice it is to have someone have a drink with her before dinner.  This will be one of many small things that this guy does to make her happy in simple ways.  One of many small things I didn't do.  They will be seated and have to have the drinks added to their bill from the bar.  They will over think what to order worrying that there will be some small judgement based on it.  There will.  She will think about getting what she has wanted all day but will instead order a salad.  With Ranch.  She will cut up the cucumbers into small pie slices or cubes to lesson the texture of the softer middle portion.  She will slice the cherry tomatoes in half to defuse the small explosion.  She will apologize and say she knows it's weird.  He will say the right thing.  He thinks it's cute.  She will think about how that is something I would never say but at the same time try to decide if she liked that about me.  They will have normal conversations about normal things.  She will think that this is nice but wonders if she might miss our nonsensical banter.  Banter that becomes normal after so much time spent sitting across restaurant tables from each other.  He won't try to impress her with big words or share any stories with self defining morals.  She will add her own anecdotes when similar situations are discussed.  He will reach for the check and she will say he doesn't have to do that.  He will smile and say he insists or that it's his pleasure.  She will think about how often she paid for my meals when we were on.  She will think about our unspoken agreement to split the bill when we were off.  They will discuss whether or not to take the leftovers.  He will.  Again the worrisome radio awaits.  There is slightly awkward silence as they head towards their block, neither wanting broach the subject of what comes next.  She thinks she hears the beginning of a song close to us.  She holds her breath.  She asks something that she doesn't care to know about just so their voices cover the song and then listens for familiar lyrics as he responds.  It's not the song she thought it was.  She is relieved but welling.  She hopes he doesn't notice.  He doesn't.  They park somewhere between their apartments and the first thoughts about the unfortunate proximity and chances of things not working out hit her.  After years of constantly wondering what comes next in a relationship without an established friendship to build any real foundation, after a relationship constantly interrupted with weeks long, months long, even a year long break, a relationship that lasted longer than most marriages these days but absent of the words I love you...it has become second nature for her to wonder what is going to happen next.  She will over think it.  He will understand.  She will stand quietly at the bottom of her stairs with her head down.  She will cry.  He will say the right thing.  He will kiss her goodnight.  He will go home. 

I will respond poorly.  I will react with anger, not the kind of anger that makes teenage boys punch holes in material they know they can punch through, the kind of anger that makes a grown mans voice falter.  I will put too many words between breaths and stutter slightly as a result.  I will cut her off as she tries to explain.  I will cut sentences short to begin new, more cutting statements.  I will be unfair.  I will attempt to finish with a little dignity.  I will say that I understand.  I will say that I'm not mad at her but hate the way she told me.  Inside I am livid.  I will always hate the idea that  after seven years she still can't tell me these things all at once.  I will always hate the way she will give the slightest clues to things that I can't bare to hear.  I will always hate that I had to put in the work to find out the worst news.  I will always think of it as a puzzle.  A puzzle that when completed is a picture of a horrific accident or a some heart wrenching scene of loss.  I will always think of it as a boss at a job I love leaving me post it notes with little two letter clues that when combined spell out "Thanks for your help! You are fired."  I will always be terrible at analogizing my most humbling situations.  I will tell her that I need time to sort out my feelings.  I will be hurt by her decision.  I will be hurt because I know I forced her to make the decision.  I will be sad.  I will be sad because I know our whole relationship has made her mostly sad.  I would cry but know that it won't change anything that has happened.  I won't cry because I know it is my choice.  I will remember that I have done this before.  I will try to remember that the hard part is over.  I will remind myself that it takes some time but that things slowly get better.  I will remember her and get sad again.  I will hear songs that stun my heart and make my head throb.  Then I will cry.  It will not be my choice.  I will ignore my brain when it tells my crushed and deflated lungs to breathe in when I sing along.  I will write passionately about things I have messed up.  I will attempt to learn from my mistakes with her.  I will always know that anything I change will be because of her.  I will only change the things that I know would have made her happy.

I will fail.  I will be miserable.  I will make jokes with friends to make myself smile.  I will think about how maybe being alone is something that I have only convinced myself to love.  I will think about how maybe being alone was something that I loved so long as I knew she would be around.  I will think about my feelings when I first met her.  I will remember how I was uncertain of the relationship but because of myself not because of her.  I will remember how after the first few months I was relating love to swimming in the ocean at night.  How when you first step into the ocean it is cold and scary because you can't see what you're wading into.  Soon you become used to it and it is exhilarating and is new.  It makes you feel alive and makes you happy to have taken the chance.  As you wade further out, becoming more brave and excited, the waves begin to hit.  You react accordingly to these obstacles.  The first one may have caught you off guard and scared you a little but you learn to listen for them.  They become easier to detect and maneuver through.  You wade further out and the waves become less of an obstacle.  As you move deeper into the water a new sensation hits you.  You are floating.  It is beautiful.  You learn the steady ebb of the waters and you feel that everything is the way it was meant to be.  As you let the water creep past your ears, bliss is reached.  The turbulent water on the surface gives way to a near paralyzing silence just beneath.  You blink slowly, your mind wonderfully torn between seeing nothing while the stunning silence surrounds you and peering upward to the stars and moon above.  Your body goes limp and you are part of it all.  You are now completely comfortable in you new surroundings.  You feel you have mastered this new realm and fail to understand how you never took the time to do so sooner.  Your guard is down.  You open your eyes to get your bearings just as a wave goes over your head.  Just when you've allowed yourself to be comfortable you are tossed into the darkness.  You scramble to the surface and feel like you cannot breathe.  This is frightening to you now.  You head to shore, regaining your footing as the waves push you out of the ocean, when only moments before they felt like they were gently pulling you in.  Your body feels heavy, no longer supported by what was so welcoming.  You are cold and uncomfortable.  The very normal sounds of waves crashing make you flinch.  I will remember these thoughts and try to apply them to my experience with her.  I will regret not ever sharing them with her.  I will think about how I will feel about these words in a weeks time, in a month, a year.  I wonder if they will be hard to read or embarrassing after time spent moving on.  I will think about sending this to her so that maybe when we've both had time to sort out our feelings she will know more about who I was.  Who I am.  I will feel sorry for myself.  I will think about the article I found on her laptop she was writing about self motivation after being in a poor relationship with a less than desirable man.  I will think about how I didn't say anything to her about it.  I will think about how different things might be if I told her how bad it hurt to know she felt that way but continued to keep me around.  I will think about the unceremonious early morning goodbye as she left for Portland.  I will remember sleeping until evening on the floor of her empty room after she left.  I will remember feeling sorry for myself but trying to comfort her mother by telling her she would be fine and that I was already missing her too.  I will remember this dream I had about her.  I don't remember ever feeling as comfortable as I did in this dream at any point in real life.  She was holding me at the surface of the water, with my ears just below the surface.  She was gently moving me towards her and smiling down at me.  Just behind her in the sky were a flock of white birds.  All of this was in slow motion and in a comforting washed out silver light.  I told her about the dream but it was impossible to make it seem as real as it was for me.  What I didn't tell her was that when I woke up from the dream I laid next to her and watched her sleep.  It was the next most comforting thing I've ever experienced.  I will remember my mistakes.  I will remember what I put her through.  I will try to explain that the things she discovered about me, the things I did that hurt her most were never done in spite.  I hope that she knows I would take back anything I've ever done to hurt her if I could.  I hope she realizes that after a certain point in our relationship, if she was sad it made me sad.  I hope she knows a part of me wishes I were only her friend so that the things I did would not have hurt her.  I would trade our relationship for her happiness.  I hope she knows I simply regret anything I did to hurt her.  I hope she realizes that I am truly a romantic.  I have been incapable of showing her this for reasons I have yet to discover.  I hope she knows that when I find out how to open up and love, I am coming to let her know.  I hope she realizes that the final step in a relationship that she feels I controlled will ultimately be her decision, not mine.  I hope she knows how much I have always loved her for who she is, as she is.  I hope she realizes that when I said she was my favorite, I meant it.

Author's Note

Any criticisms, pointers, compliments or insults welcome.

Reviews

[Talismanic]

This is such a brave personal write; the blurring of reflection and prediction really capures what it's like - when someone makes us feel lost in our own heads -how endless your cycle of thoughts is when each one of those thoughts revolves around them.
I love the unexpected images, the 'cheesecake smell of rooms' for instance - words that make everything feel so close to home, vivid I guess... It's kind of sobering to think you've gotta face the remainder of your life with private, potent little details popping up everywhere you look, regrets you can't do a thing to change, the half-felt moments you miss the most that make the list that goes on and on... this hits a nerve for me anyway,
thnx for the read.

[Dream Hunter]

i'm not sure that this is really a poem, but all the same - great write! you're really good at delving deep into feelings and emotions. fantastic!