Warning: This one is a downer. I consider it one of those sad commercials that come up when watching TV late at night. Seinfeld, laugh track, sad commercial about cancer and dying… resume laughing.
Of late, my goal has been to actively work on building happiness as my new normal. Unfortunately, it has been like a tornado lately. Life has been like a scene from Twister… driving swerving.. oh look a cow is flying towards me. DUCK! I try to remain upbeat, and stick to my goals. Life isn’t like Tivo. There is no fast forward button. So here goes. DUCK… WHAT WAS THAT??? Oh, an 18 wheeler flying overheard… no worries… Enjoy the commercial break…
We sat across the table from one another… graduation dinner for our daughter on her way to middle school. His wife could not come; I had no one but my kids to bring.
We ordered the same dinner, and I saw him trying not to laugh when I was funny. Screw you Ex- Husband. I am funny. People know me by my humor. People expect me to be funny. It is one of my best characteristics. I make people smile. He tried not to smile.
When humor became too hard, and the accolades of her upcoming years in middle school in the all honors classes that she was selected for ran dry, a tear, one tear escaped.
He glanced up at me, maybe by accident, or maybe because I had become suddenly quiet, and he might have had to participate in the conversation, but damn it, he saw the tear. Shit. It escaped because it could no longer remain where it was, buried away behind the participatory smile.
Why do people cry?
Why was I crying? After a day of reflection, because I did not know why at that moment, I now know that I was crying over what could have been. Without his wife at the table, this is what my life would have looked like from the outside. Such a pretty picture. Beautiful children with their parents, celebrating one of life’s momentous events.
Did he know what caused that tear to escape? He looked startled, maybe curious, but looked down, not away. Guilt is a bitch. He has moved on; I have not.
I don’t want him; I don’t miss him. I miss the idea of him. I want what I don’t have.
There I said it. Being Virginia lets me be honest. When I am me, I have to hide. I hide behind humor; I hide behind business. I hide behind overt problems that distract me from the reality that I stomp down day after day.
The reality is, that starting over seems worthless to me. It is the history of the connections, and the shared humor and experiences upon which relationships are built.
Am I too old to build history with someone else? I actually do those calculations. ( LOL??) Do I want someone to care about my history? YES, of course, it is mine. Do I want to learn about someone else’s history? Ummm, I am honestly not sure. I am kind of tired and drained. This is what keeps me from trying to meet someone. Truth be told, I don’t want to be a part of someone else’s history story. I have my own problems. Ugh. This is why I am not a candidate to love again. I have maxed out my love on my story and its characters. I don’t think I have another re-write in me.
So, he looked down and I looked away and put my glasses on, hoping to hide my one tear that has multiplied into a sort of a flow. I feign allergies when the kids notice, but they know. I am transparent as a ghost. I can not play poker. I wear my emotions like a new dress.
The night ends. He pays the bill. He drives away in his convertible, top down… wanting to be free. I stay and gather the troops, check seat belts… thinking about tomorrow. I think I need milk.
We now resume your regularly scheduled programming. The next show is called Tomorrow is Another Day.