Sunday, December 14, 2008

Happy Belated Birthday

I meant to write this weeks ago but my life got in the way.





The last time I would talk to Rick he made it very clear that we would not be getting back together. Ever. And while I chewed on that idea (and it took me a long time because I didn't care for it) he decided to try to make me feel better. He chose the topic of the top things he would always cherish about our relationship. This struck me as odd for a lot of reasons. First: the last and perhaps only time anyone had used the word cherish in reference to me since my wedding. And we all know how that ended.


His list was surprising. It involved a trip to the local bookstore. I really should have let him buy me something in hindsight. And I still think of him when I go there.


The second thing was the smell of my hair on his pillow. By this point I was crying. I don't remember what the third thing was.


I never told him the things I would never forget. I turned the conversation to something else. He had a lot going on in his life and I was worried about him in a strange role reversal.


But two weeks ago, on his birthday, I called. Got his voicemail and left my usual message.


And then it hit me. There were two or three slightly smaller things that I had always adored about him. And one huge thing that we didn't ever say or do but probably affects every relationship I've been in since him.


First the smaller things. And if anyone ever tells you the little things don't matter I call BS. The devil is in the details as they say.


I've never been much of a morning person and apparently my boss had told Rick this in no uncertain terms. But every morning we spent together was a good morning for me. He would get up and take a shower and then for some unknown reason put on a robe and get back into bed to cuddle with me. Just to ask if I had slept well. What was I going to do that day. He would tease me that I didn't seem tooo crabby in the morning. Ten minutes just for me.


For years I wouldn't have been caught dead in my glasses. Most people don't even know I wear glasses even though I've had a rather thick pair since the late 80's. He always wanted to see them and I always said no. Until we went to the bookstore.


And this ties in with item two. No matter where we went or what I had on he always said, "you look beautiful." And I always squirmed at the idea. I'm not great with compliments. But he always told me. Time and time again. I never believed him until the very last time. We were over; he had been very clear. I had stopped by to check on him because I was worried. And right before I walked out the door there it was again. I always thought he told me I was beautiful because he wanted something from me. But that day it occurred to me that he really meant it.


But the biggest thing I took away from our relationship was to never hold back. I had been halfway "in" with him and I had lost. And while he sometimes questioned the seeming reckless abandon with which I threw myself into my subsequent relationships I did not. It seemed illogical to him that I would risk so much of myself so often. But I had lost him because I had held back. And I have honestly never done that since. I don't question if I tried hard enough or what I could have done either.


He's a big poker player and I hope he understands that now when I play this game I play all in.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Early 90's Flashback

It was a hot day in July and as usual we were hanging outside in the garage having an impromptu party. Barbeque, music, some cult classic movie we had seen a hunrded times on mute, cigarettes and assorted other vices. I was, as usual, told I was overdressed.

The iPod was set on random and with more than 10,000 songs perhaps random was an understatement. And then there it was. The song that would make me 18 all over again. I threatened the life of Jay who was just about to press the skip button and ruin my moment. He knew what the song was but did not know its personal significance. Probably because he had been 13 at the time.

I had my four minutes uninterrupted with the volume on high and managed to not break out dancing when Melissa looked at me with that, "I know what this is about," look. And all I had to say in reply was, "Mix tape."

"Oh my God. I know exactly what you mean. I LOVE mix tapes. I swear I've kept every mix tape any guy has ever made me. Even my stupid ex. There's nothing like a good mix tape." And this is when the men started looking at us strangely. I don't usually engage in girl talk but this was an exception; I had flipped into full girlie mode and it appeared I had at least one girlfriend going with me.

The mix tape was becoming a long lost art in some ways. "I don't see what the big deal is," said Jay,"you can burn a whole CD in like 3 minutes now. It used to be hard picking out the songs to make the tape sides come out even. Now it's just too easy."

Melissa and I exchanged looks. "I would kill for a good mix tape right now." "Yep."

The closest thing to a mix tape I've gotten lately was when Paul gave me all his music to load on my iPod. Close but still no mix tape.

Downstairs in a battered box that traveled with me on both 700 mile moves is a cassette tape with a yellow cover. The first song is Alive by Love and Rockets.

Just because it was easy didn't mean it wasn't worthwhile.