Definitely, Maybe and my old poem Kissing List
Josh was away all week, so I spent a lot more time driving (we only have one car) and ruminating than I normally would. I tend to reminisce about old boyfriends and other relationships when Josh goes away. Maybe it has something to do with that wedding ceremony coming up.
So Definitely, Maybe was a good movie for me to watch last night--one in which the main character tells his romantic relationship story--centering around three serious relationships. It was a fun movie. Not amazing.
It's nice to have a poem I wrote so long ago (Kissing List) still seem so resonant to me. Basically the idea of the poem is that after a relationship ends, there's no way to control or even to know how two people will view each other over time. At the time I was upset because I had a lot of positive, nostalgic emotions for a certain boyfriend and I felt like he had forgotten that I existed. For a while I really wanted to force him to remember how much fun we had together and compel him to remain friends with me. Then I wrote the poem about it and kind of made my peace. At the time we dated, there was a lot of other stuff going on in his personal life that was way more absorbing to him than me. Surprisingly, since then we've exchanged sporadic e-mails, and I suspect the way we remember each other is pretty similar. Lots of fondness, no regret.
This week I was thinking a lot about the first guy I thought I'd marry, who won't talk to me now. I have a craving to see his children--it's not jealousy or competition--I just really wish I could peek into his life once in a while.
Recently, I almost ran into the guy I think of as my "practice boyfriend"--who is a great guy with some important similarities to Josh. At the time, my relationship with him was my most honest and open relationship by far. In many ways dating him prepared me for being with Josh. Or that's how I tell the story, anyway. But almost running into him was bizarre because I was with Josh and my aunt and uncle. I really wanted to introduce the ex to all three of them, but luckily I realized in time that everyone else involved would feel awkward.
I ran into another ex while shopping yesterday. I am not always the one who wants to keep and touch and stay friends. Though this guy is a wonderfully kind, decent human being, I wanted to run for the hills as soon as I saw him. We had a very embarrassing last encounter that should mostly be embarrassing for him. He was acting scary and crazy and was not at all like his usual self. But I realized the reasons I was embarrassed didn't have to do with that particular night. I'm embarrassed because I spent almost every day and night for three months with this person and never took him seriously. I thought I was better than him--which is an uncomfortable thought in itself. I dated him for no particular reason, and furthermore I pursued him intensely even though there was another very important person in my life who needed my attention. I think to him, for a while at least, I was "the one who got away" and to me, he is a reminder of how ugly I can be.
I don't have a "one who got away." Thank goodness. I know we need them in movies like Definitely, Maybe but they aren't practical in real life. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I worry about Josh dying young and what I would do if he did. I can't see any reason to stay single if that happened, but when I try to imagine that future someone I come up with a big blank. There's nobody on this earth remotely like Josh, and for me, it's Josh or nothing. So that's why I'm getting married.
That's how most of my ruminations end up: I think and think and think about other people and situations, and then I think about how by every conceivable measure, Josh is preferable to any person on the planet. So why do I spend time thinking about that past? I'm not sure. Maybe I just like stories. Or maybe I like seeing my life as a series of steps that all led me directly to where I am now.
So Definitely, Maybe was a good movie for me to watch last night--one in which the main character tells his romantic relationship story--centering around three serious relationships. It was a fun movie. Not amazing.
It's nice to have a poem I wrote so long ago (Kissing List) still seem so resonant to me. Basically the idea of the poem is that after a relationship ends, there's no way to control or even to know how two people will view each other over time. At the time I was upset because I had a lot of positive, nostalgic emotions for a certain boyfriend and I felt like he had forgotten that I existed. For a while I really wanted to force him to remember how much fun we had together and compel him to remain friends with me. Then I wrote the poem about it and kind of made my peace. At the time we dated, there was a lot of other stuff going on in his personal life that was way more absorbing to him than me. Surprisingly, since then we've exchanged sporadic e-mails, and I suspect the way we remember each other is pretty similar. Lots of fondness, no regret.
This week I was thinking a lot about the first guy I thought I'd marry, who won't talk to me now. I have a craving to see his children--it's not jealousy or competition--I just really wish I could peek into his life once in a while.
Recently, I almost ran into the guy I think of as my "practice boyfriend"--who is a great guy with some important similarities to Josh. At the time, my relationship with him was my most honest and open relationship by far. In many ways dating him prepared me for being with Josh. Or that's how I tell the story, anyway. But almost running into him was bizarre because I was with Josh and my aunt and uncle. I really wanted to introduce the ex to all three of them, but luckily I realized in time that everyone else involved would feel awkward.
I ran into another ex while shopping yesterday. I am not always the one who wants to keep and touch and stay friends. Though this guy is a wonderfully kind, decent human being, I wanted to run for the hills as soon as I saw him. We had a very embarrassing last encounter that should mostly be embarrassing for him. He was acting scary and crazy and was not at all like his usual self. But I realized the reasons I was embarrassed didn't have to do with that particular night. I'm embarrassed because I spent almost every day and night for three months with this person and never took him seriously. I thought I was better than him--which is an uncomfortable thought in itself. I dated him for no particular reason, and furthermore I pursued him intensely even though there was another very important person in my life who needed my attention. I think to him, for a while at least, I was "the one who got away" and to me, he is a reminder of how ugly I can be.
I don't have a "one who got away." Thank goodness. I know we need them in movies like Definitely, Maybe but they aren't practical in real life. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I worry about Josh dying young and what I would do if he did. I can't see any reason to stay single if that happened, but when I try to imagine that future someone I come up with a big blank. There's nobody on this earth remotely like Josh, and for me, it's Josh or nothing. So that's why I'm getting married.
That's how most of my ruminations end up: I think and think and think about other people and situations, and then I think about how by every conceivable measure, Josh is preferable to any person on the planet. So why do I spend time thinking about that past? I'm not sure. Maybe I just like stories. Or maybe I like seeing my life as a series of steps that all led me directly to where I am now.