I wish I had a jaw dropping story about my first hurricane experience to entertain you with, but it was actually fairly quiet compared to many other areas on the east coast. I ended up going into Brooklyn and staying with the family - more for boredom precaution than safety. There were no issues with flooding whatsoever, we had power throughout, and a total of zero trees came crashing into the windows and on top of our cars. How mundane. Three bottles of wine later, and 'Irene' went back to being a tragic name saved for crazy aunts and sketchy neighbors. The most eventful it got was a drunk dial from my ex-boyfriend at three in the morning. And that's hardly the thrill I was looking for.
I hate drunk dials from old lovas. I'll admit, I fall guilty to making one or six of them back in the day when I had my first gin and tonic, but the thrill of it all has worn off after my old 23 years. There is no reward left in hearing a slurred "I miss you", "I made a mistake", or, in this case, "When are you moving back home so we can finally get married". Uh...what?
Now. We know I like to make light of things, which is why I can find the good in this. Yes, I'm flattered...I may be single, but I'm getting drunk marriage pre-proposals over the phone. And though it took four years, I now have a right to say the "I told you so" that I promised him I'd be able to someday after he left me brokenhearted in my basement a week before my high school graduation. But that 'I told you so' is never as sweet as we hope it to be, and this drunk dial wasn't quite as entertaining as I wish it was. Because though we were young, and it was a long time ago, and this boy probably had an obscene amount of Grey Goose before making the call, there were once real feelings there...wounds that have taken a long time to heal, leaving me guarded and wary of experiencing the same hurt that he put me through again.
My biggest fear in love is not that I can't find it, but that I won't find it with the right person. Having myself convinced that there was just one specific person meant for me left me feeling completely paranoid with all of my major life decisions. I worried if I made the "wrong" choice, I would only be keeping myself from the person I'm suppose to be with (A.K.A the "wrong choice" of living in New York). And that is why this phone call pissed me the fuck off. Because though we were young, and it's been four years, and there is almost always Grey Goose involved, this is not the first time we've had this conversation. And after those four years, I have yet to find someone that makes my heart skip a beat like this boy did.
His drunk dial came conveniently soon after the bar conversation I promised I'd share with you - the one concerning relationships, and the one that's made me look at all of this in the right perspective. I shared my 'only one specific person' fear with a 40-something year old married man who raised some valid points, completely shifting my mindset on the entire situation. As males usually do - he brought in logic to something I had fantasized in my head. He reminded me that life is all about choices, and who you end up with isn't necessarily because of fate or destiny, but rather because of the decisions you make that you believe are the best for yourself. I shouldn't have 'the love of my life' in the back of my head every time I make a major decision for myself. I need to do what's best for me, and by doing that, my love will come along.
So initially, yes, this phone call upset me, because it brought back that old fear of wondering if staying in New York and still being single isn't just a coincidence. It made me fantasize about the relationship I could have if I ever moved back to the Midwest. But then I remembered the wise, buzzed words of the man at the bar, and I hit myself with a dose of reality. This boy broke my heart. He absolutely humiliated me. And now, after four years and him finally realizing how fucking awesome I am, I'm entertaining the idea of what it would be like for me to throw away everything I have here and for us to make it work - all in fear of him being 'the one' and me being too stubborn to admit it? Reallllly, Leah. I don't want to be with this boy. I just want what I used to have with him...and there is no move big enough to bring that back.
So, thank you for the flattery, ex-boyfriend. I'm happy you finally realized I am good enough for you. You're about four years too late though, I'm over a thousand miles away, and it's going to take a lot more than a drunk dial to convince me something is good enough to leave what I've made for myself here. That is one decision I am sure of.
I hate drunk dials from old lovas. I'll admit, I fall guilty to making one or six of them back in the day when I had my first gin and tonic, but the thrill of it all has worn off after my old 23 years. There is no reward left in hearing a slurred "I miss you", "I made a mistake", or, in this case, "When are you moving back home so we can finally get married". Uh...what?
Now. We know I like to make light of things, which is why I can find the good in this. Yes, I'm flattered...I may be single, but I'm getting drunk marriage pre-proposals over the phone. And though it took four years, I now have a right to say the "I told you so" that I promised him I'd be able to someday after he left me brokenhearted in my basement a week before my high school graduation. But that 'I told you so' is never as sweet as we hope it to be, and this drunk dial wasn't quite as entertaining as I wish it was. Because though we were young, and it was a long time ago, and this boy probably had an obscene amount of Grey Goose before making the call, there were once real feelings there...wounds that have taken a long time to heal, leaving me guarded and wary of experiencing the same hurt that he put me through again.
My biggest fear in love is not that I can't find it, but that I won't find it with the right person. Having myself convinced that there was just one specific person meant for me left me feeling completely paranoid with all of my major life decisions. I worried if I made the "wrong" choice, I would only be keeping myself from the person I'm suppose to be with (A.K.A the "wrong choice" of living in New York). And that is why this phone call pissed me the fuck off. Because though we were young, and it's been four years, and there is almost always Grey Goose involved, this is not the first time we've had this conversation. And after those four years, I have yet to find someone that makes my heart skip a beat like this boy did.
His drunk dial came conveniently soon after the bar conversation I promised I'd share with you - the one concerning relationships, and the one that's made me look at all of this in the right perspective. I shared my 'only one specific person' fear with a 40-something year old married man who raised some valid points, completely shifting my mindset on the entire situation. As males usually do - he brought in logic to something I had fantasized in my head. He reminded me that life is all about choices, and who you end up with isn't necessarily because of fate or destiny, but rather because of the decisions you make that you believe are the best for yourself. I shouldn't have 'the love of my life' in the back of my head every time I make a major decision for myself. I need to do what's best for me, and by doing that, my love will come along.
So initially, yes, this phone call upset me, because it brought back that old fear of wondering if staying in New York and still being single isn't just a coincidence. It made me fantasize about the relationship I could have if I ever moved back to the Midwest. But then I remembered the wise, buzzed words of the man at the bar, and I hit myself with a dose of reality. This boy broke my heart. He absolutely humiliated me. And now, after four years and him finally realizing how fucking awesome I am, I'm entertaining the idea of what it would be like for me to throw away everything I have here and for us to make it work - all in fear of him being 'the one' and me being too stubborn to admit it? Reallllly, Leah. I don't want to be with this boy. I just want what I used to have with him...and there is no move big enough to bring that back.
So, thank you for the flattery, ex-boyfriend. I'm happy you finally realized I am good enough for you. You're about four years too late though, I'm over a thousand miles away, and it's going to take a lot more than a drunk dial to convince me something is good enough to leave what I've made for myself here. That is one decision I am sure of.
No comments:
Post a Comment