Oscar Wilde once said: "The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple" and I totally agree with him. I have to, because it's true. Over the past two weeks I seem to have sort of re-kindled, or re-ignited an affair I tried so hard to forget with the one and only "D" from Palm Springs. Though, I should say that the term re-ignited or re-kindled sounds like too much, when in fact it feels like less than what it was: a brief encounter of the tawdry kind. Yes, dinner was had, followed by the familiar catch-up conversation. You know the ones: "Hi, how are you? How has work been? What's new? How do you like the weather? I miss you. Screw you, I hate you, but I fear I will always be in love with you." Yeah, that kind of conversation. His reply: "I miss you, too. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I can't leave my partner."
Really, how long have we had these conversations now for, D? I met you when I was 25, back in 2008. The song remains the same, and in turn I have remained the same. Stuck for so long. The time before last I saw you when I was 29. It was October, 2012. I remember distinctly. You wore your hair parted to the left, and that striped shirt with a silver vest. You wore cologne, but then again--you always do. I remember I told you I was done, that I couldn't do this to myself. This...this agony of the heart. I was stupid for loving you, for ever loving you. I was, and am still stupid. You said if only things were different, but they're not. They will never be different.
And so it is...a year and change later I tried so hard to forget you. I did. I truly did. And now things seem to be back at square one. Against my better judgment I stand in this square. A friend of mine, the snarky New York City transplant in my group of friends gave me the 3rd degree. He should be a cop, really, or Oprah--asking so many damn questions.
He's the only who dares ask why I did what I did. I really cannot explain why I agreed to meet you for dinner, and hang out with you. None of my best friends asked me why. They know better. They may be disappointed in me, but they know better than to ask. They may roll their eyes, or sigh heavily, or not say anything at all, and in fact, it's just as well. I hate that they hate you, D. Because they will never accept the damage I've caused in my own emotional life because of you. They have seen me at my worst when you've only seen me at my best.
I spent the latter half of my 20's in a very twisted affair. I don't have the energy to step into my 30's doing the same thing. Though I fear that I may never fully recover from you, from us, from this sentiment. I think that any guy I meet will never live up to your instant gratification. I remember meeting you for the first time. I remember our song: "I Gotta Feeling" by The Black Eyed Peas. I remember that night vividly, but now the only thing for certain I remember vividly is that this feeling sucks. It truly does. I can't move on, it seems, and when I do you somehow resurface back into my life. I hate that. But I am also to blame, of course. I know it. I am the one to blame for allowing you to return time and time again. You're like an emotional vampire.
This story of chance meetings back in 2008, this story of connection, this story of re-connecting...will it ever stop? Will I ever stop? Am I addicted to you? I think so. You're like a love affair drug I cannot escape, nor seem to know how to put away. You're a toxic elixir. You're Love Potion No. 5 gone wrong.
I find myself wishing I have never met you. But then as soon as the thought comes I wish it away.
But when I truly analyze your side of this story: I don't even factor into your life. I am not your partner of 18 years. I don't own property with you. I don't know you like your partner does, and even though you're in an unhappy partnership you are still with him. Is it out of convenience? Out of pity? And then I begin to feel sorry for you at times, do you know that? Because your partnership feels like a prison cell. You can't escape the most seemingly beautiful home you have created for yourself. You will rot in that home, if you're not careful. I wish you the best. I don't know when I will see you. I hope I am stronger and I don't fall for you another time.
But life is not that simple, and I think neither is this.
Till next time, if we should have a next time...