Friday, March 26, 2010
How you know.
Do you want to know how you know you are in the presence of the One That Got Away? I can tell you. You see him and your heart skips not one beat but two. It's cold out, but your face is flaming hot. You are sure you are purple. You can feel your eyes light up. You toss your hair. Stop. Pull it back over your shoulder. Did he like your hair longer or shorter? Can't remember. Get frustrated. Contemplate pulling said hair up into a ponytail. Stupid hair. He sees you. Your heart skips beats again, and this time, your stomach drops. You forget where you are, why you are there, and who you are with. He hugs you. You want to keep hugging him. The urge to kiss him is gigantic, enormous. It's so big, you are sure everyone around you knows that you want to kiss him. Words from 16 years ago blast through your mind "Moment of truth, huh babe?" You are sure everyone around you heard this, even though it's only in your silly little mind. When he stops hugging you, you feel yourself leaning in his general direction. Every moment he's around you, you want to touch him. Hold his hand, put your arm around him. This feels like the most natural thing in the world, even though he hasn't been "yours" for 13 years. You want to whisper in his ear, or scream at the top of your lungs "I still love you!". This urge is gigantic, enormous. You think you'll die if you don't say it. You don't say it. Every ounce of your famous self-esteem is gone, vanished, like it had never existed. You can't even bring yourself to give him your phone# or email address. You act like a child and give your info to his sister instead. You kick yourself for this. Repeatedly. When it's time to go, you are physically ill at the thought of leaving. Leaving him. He'll forget me. He'll forget I was here. You have an overwhelming desire to be alone. You want your apartment, something strong to drink, and your bed. For a very very long time. You get home, and immediately get in a hot shower so you can cry in peace. You feel silly for crying but God damn it you love him and you miss him and holy shit. You go to bed insanely early, to avoid drinking alone. You can't sleep. Not a little, not at all. For days after, you have this incredible sadness weighing you down. You know that you could cry at the drop of a hat, and would, but God damn it you're not going to! There's work to be done! Things to do! You know understand, with stunning clarity, that the reason you are the way you are in relationships is because you know that he was the one. And he got away.