Today is Neighbor X's 36th birthday. We've been hanging out since just before his 32nd. (Yes, he's very young. And your point is?)
I realized tonight, while missing his party, that we never actually spent his birthday together. Hmmm. Tells you something, I guess, especially in hindsight.
His 32nd happened when we were in the flirting stage. I bought him a latte and muffin and left it by his front door in the morning. The next year when we were finally a couple, he was in Spain for six months. His birthday consisted of an elaborately bungled mail-order sweater and a loving phone call on my part, some sort of debauchery in Barcelona on his. Two years ago, we broke up a week or two before the date. I remember throwing him his present, a racquetball bag, during the scene. He still uses the bag.
Last year, we were once again on the outs, and he had a party at his place without me. That day I left him a bag of homemade marinara sauce, pasta, Italian wine and Parmesan. We got back together two weeks later on my birthday and made it through Christmas, not quite making it to the New Year's finish line.
This year, we talked about being together and an invitation was floated, but I couldn't ignore the reality that nothing had changed and that it was an empty offer.
I like key recurring dates and holidays. I use them to look back, to try to make some sense of my chaotic life. What was I doing and feeling two years ago, ten years ago, twenty? I like to identify some ways I've changed, and use that to affirm that I'm learning and growing. I hate to think that I'm knowingly repeating the same mistakes.
So tonight, I can say that I've broken out of the pain cycle of the last four years, and, sadder but wiser, am moving on. I trust that that knowledge will be enough to keep me moving forward to a better, healthier place. I may never experience those highs again, but I now understand that they're truly not worth the lows that came with.
Recent Comments