Destruction. This concept is where this story began and where it ends. Where I was flighty and fiery to him and for him, she was mundane and accessible, like microwaved food. Readily available. Easy bake. Her only garnish, her age and flexible schedule. As food that is cured, well seasoned, and highly reviewed, I exist at the other end of spectrum from this woman whose name I still don’t know because she has harassed me under too many names to count. So, let’s start with the parts of the story I do know.
Here are the facts.
I became infatuated with someone far younger. A week or two in, he cut ties with a woman closer to his age that he said he’d been dealing with for a few months. He had little else to say about it or her, so from the beginning I just assumed that she was unremarkable.
The an end of a journey is still grimly satisfying because the memory of that finale is sometimes the stamp on our emotional passport we need before we venture to fly elsewhere. So leap, warp, learn, and love.
I think it’s wild that when someone splits from someone they’ve loved for a zillion years they often say something like ‘I don’t know how to explain it…he/she just makes me feel alive.’ We deal each other these severe blows by saying to one another that the joys and triumphs of the years we spend together, as hard as those years may have been, are nothing compared to the thrill of brand new experiences with someone else. Read More