Sometimes the things I write are the things that happen.
I am mindful of this.
I am currently swimming the waters of relationship ambiguity and have once again decided to just be a good girl, just in case.
And then (cue slowly building tension music and a crack of lightning)
Shitfire.
Lord thundering, nope, not Jesus.
The Titans are coming and the sky isn’t falling so much as ripping apart.
There is my earth shattering KaBoom.
The wrote a thing last month and said
I’m fighting the good fight right now. Against doubt, fear and temptation.
I am almost strong enough to look the god’s in the eye and say ‘fuck it, go ahead and tempt me’.
I have been saying no like it’s my first language. But just to demi-gods. The titans remain blissfully quiet.
I fucking woke them up.
I didn’t mean for it to be a taunt or a challenge.
And yet…
11:04 pm on September 23rd the year of our lord 2016.
2 messages came through as I was trying to sleep before I had to do an airport run at 4am and then keep rolling till 2am the following night.
The Hulk announced he had landed in my city.
I knew this was happening but somehow the days slipped and it went from being soon, to now.
Which of course makes my heart happy, I love that man.
But my heart is already happy.
And what happens when my heart gets happy?
They come back.
Giant climbed down the beanstalk 45 seconds later to shake the ground and tell me the following.
His message pulled me out of my state of almost sleep.
Dear Robert, his best friend, was in the truck unknowingly listening to a CD I had gifted Giant.
Lover Come Back by Dallas Green started playing, a song I had added and removed from that particular playlist 10 times if once and then finally said ‘fuck it’ when I stopped caring and on it went. And our dearest Robert stated “This song was written for Sarah to dance to. Had she played it the night we all met I might have been the one that stole her away.”
Aww, dear sweet Robert. What a nice thing to say, and also pretty funny considering how said song came to be playing in said truck.
But the second thing he said. Fuck.
Took my tired little mind almost 2 hours to catch on.
And when I finally did Our Dear Candice was sitting on the porch with me in the wee hours of the very long day and I heard my voice say “Giant emceed a wedding and he talked about me in his speech”, right before I burst into tears.
He thought I would think it was funny.
But I didn’t.
I cried, a lot.
For a few reasons. I had been through the stages of grief in no semblance of order and landed on denial.
I know I do this, I know it isn’t right, but it helps. Especially if they stay down.
Then time can pass and I can build up an immunity before I open the can of worms again.
No such luck. Not enough time has passed.
What I had decided was the usual…It was never that great, no big deal, he didn’t really like me that much, there was never anything there just me being silly as I tend to be.
Then he stood up in front of a room full of people and used me (the mistress) as a paradigm of what a really good woman is.
I am her, personified.
(So why aren’t you with me?)
Said he was with the other girl because he didn’t see himself being with me long term.
(But it’s been 10 months.)
Strangers toasted my effigy on a day that should have been about love.
(There is no logic here.)
What I settled on is this… for once I did actually make someone up.
I don’t know this person and he doesn’t know me.
I thought that he was capable of holding things sacred, but he isn’t.
Giant thought that by me breaking down upon his return that it meant I was going to sabotage things with the new one.
Cue the No.
Oh, no honey. If anything, I became grateful.
I have someone who makes me laugh just to hear it.
And although I’m not sure what exactly is going on, I’m just going to float.
I mentioned the wedding kerfuffle to the Hulk last night and he labeled it ‘demented’.
He still protects me, bless him.
I know I have a bad habit of holding onto things long after their respective expiry dates.
I have a hard time giving up because I know what it is like to be given up on.
I am still learning.
I am important too.
I met a man at work last week, before all of this happened, and I watched him pouring water into wine. Of course I asked why.
He said the wine was for his wife and she drank a bottle a night. He wouldn’t stop her from drinking, but he was worried about her consuming too much alcohol, so he did this.
In that moment, seeing the sparkle in his pale blue eyes and listening to the lilt in his voice when he spoke of her, I changed my idea of what love is.
It’s pouring water into wine.
If I ever stand up at a wedding to talk about love, this is my paradigm.
