I'm not going to pretend to be some tragic romantic who pines over love lost and the woes of the "one who got away". When my ex and I broke up it was, like many relationships between many people, messy and painful. We eventually became somewhat friendly towards each other, this being easily accomplished when your ex is living several states away from you, but we would occasionally text or sometimes even call just to chit chat about what was going on in our lives. That eventually trailed off as these things do and we began to move forward with our lives.
Well, she did at any rate.
There once was a time when falling in love was my favorite thing to do. It sounds odd, but I loved the whole experience. From the trepidation of the opening moves and the excitement of the first date. I swooned to think of the tantalizing dance between (potential) lovers as we flirted and grew bolder, more comfortable and confidant in our feeling and desires and the sordid acts they lead to. I recall vividly the wellspring of emotions that would rise as passion grew hotter and hotter as love bloomed and thrived in a fiery and wild abandon, only to settle into that smoldering burn that would last for long periods of time. I even cherished the icy pit of love lost, of the break up and the loss and the hollow time of mourning that followed.
OK, seriously, let's not hang me up by the balls over that "not gonna be the tragic romantic" comment from earlier. Lets move on people.
It was a grand experience that was blessed to enjoy many times in the short time that I've been wandering on this great ball of mud we call home, but all that had faded to the past. Since I broke up with my ex I've not felt any of that. Oh sure I've had moments of romantic happiness or lustful abandon, but not the same heart warming explosion that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I went on dates, met women, tried a little of this and had some of that, but nothing touched that emptiness inside. It brought forth a great many questions in myself; Am I broken? Am I destined never to know intimate love? Were my feelings over the break up still tied up in that painful event? It brings to mind an analogy about faith that I always found so consoling, that we all have a cup inside us that faith fills up and that as children, this cup is small and thus easily filled. As we grow, however, this cup grows with us, till eventually the same thing that inspired us with love and awe as a child, was no longer sufficient to satisfy us as adults.
Was this the problem? Was I simply growing up and my sense of wonderment in the loving arms of so many others no longer enough to satisfy? Was I desensitized to the world of romance by my frequent jaunts along it's many splendored paths? Well these thoughts settled, I've had some opportunities arise recently in my life of the potential romantic kind and I thought, maybe it was all just a dry spell and I was beginning to move forward.
I have to admit here that all thought of this previous lover was not gone from my mind. You see no matter how many times I wiped my computer I couldn't bring myself to delete the pictures I had of her on it. When I moved out of my apartment the box that contained the last remaining possessions of hers she had left behind got tucked into the back of the storage unit, "just in case" I ran into her or she called and wanted them back. And the greatest sin of all, the coup de tat, I would, on a lonely night, finding my way to Facebook, ostensibly to just poke around and see what my friends were getting up to (lies, all lies! I rarely touch Facebook unless prodded by others to do so). Tonight was no different. Call it boredom, I rarely have plans on a Friday night these days due to my working bright and early Saturday morning. Call it exhaustion, I work a twenty-four hour shift that starts Thursday morning and this week I picked up overtime and started the shift at 10 o'clock Wednesday night. Call it whatever you want, the truth is simple; I was weak! So I drifted to her page and while nothing had noticeably changed other than her picture (she's gone back to red hair. I know, I'm a damned fool) I found my eyes drawn to the left side of the page and much to my dismay I see that not only has she returned to the state, she now lives in the next town over, a town that of course, is covered by my companies service.
Well, my heart began to beat a mile a minute and I found myself frozen. Now dear readers, I must take a moment to clarify something. I am not a man easily shaken. I deal with bloody, gruesome, awful death as a matter of course for my job. Hell, just the other day I had my first cardiac arrest and, subsequently, my first patient death. I was more concerned with the unusual noises my truck had been making on the way into work that morning! I have been shot at, stabbed, electrocuted, beaten, broken bones and nearly blown up twice. But seeing her new location left me bewildered. "Why, oh why" I thought. She always said she wanted to live in Boston and yet, of all the cities and all the towns in all of the Commonwealth, why did you have to walk into mine.
See what I did there? Casablanca reference. Very classy, but I digress.
And here I thought the worst female related thing I would have to deal with was awkwardly running into the chick I had been sleeping with a few months back. That would be a walk in the park by comparison. A well enjoyed walk in the park no less. Friends, I expect neither comfort nor pity from you. All I can say is that I'm rather relieved to have written this all out. I'm finding myself somewhat comforted. This isn't my usual modus operandi, I don't usually like to air my internal drama out for the world to see. I have to admit, though, that, despite the fact that I have aspirations to the ministry and that I am currently weaving my woes into a blog on what can, under generous scrutiny, be deemed as a "soft-core" porn site (a topic for another post, I'm sure), I feel more comfortable being vulnerable to the good people I have had the chance to interact with on this site than I would with many of my friends and especially more so than with the majority of my colleagues.
So for that I thank you all and give you my most heartfelt condolences if you've made it this far reading my pitiable rantings.
A good night to you all, and may whatever God, Goddess, Deity, Spirit or creed you hold faith with bless you and yours,
Sincerely and with all my Love,
W.R.Coulter