All my friends are married. Two couples and counting, so here I’m stuck taking pictures, speed-editing them to win the race of delivery (unbeaten so far) and dancing by myself.
I wouldn’t be me if these major changes, although they technically have nothing to do with me, didn’t come with some watered-down epiphany of sorts for me, too.
I don’t know why these people accept me, really. I’m nothing like them: I talk differently, have different interests and sure as hell don’t make their kind of wage. They’re well-raised, house-garden-tree folk of a kind that generally crosses the streets upon spotting me. The only reason why I ever joined them in the first place is because my former girlfriend went to school with the female half of the group.
And still, they accept me without question, faults and everything, and envelop me with a friendliness that would even make it a little difficult for me to accept.
The last couple to marry in particular, are two people that are especially close to me. I was chosen to do the speech in the name of “the gang” so I was able to voice a gratefulness to them I wasn’t able to, before. And here’s something I can’t believe: I choked up halfway. I had to step back for a moment, laughing with my own surprising reaction.
When I went through dark times, they were there for me. And not just as a passive shoulder, but actually calling me every week, taking me out, and listening to my rants. While the pain and recovery of which was still mine to bear, their interest in me helped enormously. It’s actually no shock that I got a little emotional; the things I shared with them are from the worst moments of twenty-five years.
And again, it wouldn’t be me if things didn’t get more complicated by my ex being there, and actually having the ballsack to bring her boyfriend: that weak little shit she chose to cheat on me with. After over two years, I had never seen him before, and as expected, I’m not impressed. Fucking sheep.
“It’s her fault, you know. She did this to you. While the easiest thing for the group is to have you two back together indefinitely, I simply wouldn’t allow it.”
I nodded yes, and although I seriously considered the idea for the first time, still wouldn’t believe it. Good advice left behind, as usual. It wasn’t until later that night, that I realized he was right. Bringing that kid, who really had nothing to do at this wedding, was unnecessary and only served to make her evening better. She didn’t give a flying fuck if it ruined mine- or she did, but hadn’t considered the option of leaving her pet at home.
But, I behaved. I didn’t murder him like I once swore I would, but I didn’t shake his fucking hand, either. I left them alone, and continued to ignore them separately when he went home. I felt more and more tired with this shit, and had it gradually easier to accept that really, she is to blame for all this, and I have a right to be angry with her.
And I am. I’ve had enough of her shit, of her refusing to see any further than her own personal needs. She had been catered to them (by me) as she grew up, often at the expense of mine. But ignoring the notion that I could possibly be in a dilemma with that tool showing up, is kind of where I draw the line.
I watched inception the other night and it kind of reminded me of her (as it would).
How easy it wouldn’t be, to simply cut that tangible memory out of my mind. To remove the disturbance so that I wouldn’t forget her, but cut the emotional ties and move on cherishing the memories and nothing else.
It seriously is what I need to do, but I just can’t bring myself to it. Something inside still links her persona with some concept of… What, really?
When I walked out to get some fresh air and to get away from the fucking elevator music the deejay was crapping out, I sensed someone come after me. I caught myself expecting it to be her. Seriously: What more does she need to do to make me put her out of my mind?
I guess I’m just used to it by now. The people who tell me most often to just forget about her are those who hurt me in remarkably similar ways. Still, I would take them all back under my wing if they should only ask. I seem to have a strong melancholic side, which tends to take me for a ride now and then. And let me tell you: it’s a fucking bitch. The conscious part of me moves on and deals with the loss, while one pea-sized little fraction clings on and refuses to let go. And as a matter of fact, I have this with every ex-girlfriend of mine. Some nagging feeling that there’s something unfinished, and things aren’t as they should be. Only common sense stands in the way of doing stupid things, which I luckily have quite a bit of.
I seriously think that if I can finally shake her off, I will be able to do so more easily with other people. And I think I owe it to myself, too, so I can at least move forward and move on, without this puppy complex that puts me in doomed relationships out of simple, doodah fear.
And then maybe, someday, the wedding day will be mine. Funny how I never cared about it when in a stable relationship. Still don’t, but you know. I suck at being single.
Now please: Enough about chicks, already.