Although We've Come to the End of the Road
As they say, all good things must come to an end.
In July, 2003, I was barely through what is now my six (!!!) year career at Northeastern. I was twenty, facing the transition into my twenties from my teens. I was in a different place then, with different people in my life, and I used this journal as a way to help me (us all?) grow the fuck up a little bit.
Celebrity appearences constantly happened, but one guy has the highest esteem of being the inspiration, directly or indirectly, of most of my subject matter. Without him, I would have never been able to close that gap between senior prom and pub crawls. And as much as I would have liked to deny it on a regular basis, my seeming obsession with our break up, and all my spite and hate and accusations were all because I couldn't believe that we actually had to get over each other.
There have been millions of things that I wanted to say to him, to ask him....and millions of things that I never wanted to say in fear of having them actually be true, or worse, not true.
So I listened to hours upon hours of therapeutic music and dissected and wrote and compared and puzzled until my puzzler was sore.
(My playlist as I write this, trying to decide on a proper title:
Barenaked Ladies - Old Apartment
Lenny Kravitz - Again
Third Eye Blind - Motorcycle Driveby
Death Cab - Tiny Vessels
Postal Service - The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
Staind - It's been a while
No Doubt - Bathwater
Huey Lewis & the News - If this is It
Coldplay - Sparks
Lenny Kravitz - Can't get you off of my mind
Third Eye Blind - In the Background
Barenaked Ladies - Leave
Beatles - Let it Be
Coldplay - Yellow)
And I got over him. And I move on. And I live the life that I could have never imagined, but always wanted.
This weekend, I finally saw Danny for a long time, for the first time in a long time. It wasn't planned, which was the way it had to happen, because then we had to react to each other. I had run over the senario of us meeting up for years; I had the stories I had told a million times over to my friends ready, I had them planned with the perfect punch line and time span for laughter, all of them proving that....I don't know. Proving that I was never hurting after I left. Proving that I had been right, we couldn't have stayed together. But I didn't tell any of those stories. I didn't have any perfect punch lines or planned laughter.
I did, however, have many, many, many gin & tonics. (In retrospect, that was a poor but facilitating choice.)
It was awkward, but it was so comforting in that awkwardness. I was awkward with someone that knew me better than anyone for a span of years in my life. It's like going back to your hometown; you know exactly where you are, but you have no idea where you are. Little changes in the roads happen, and you wonder when they did that. But you're stilll at home, no matter how quickly you wanted to hurry up and move away, it was Home. And it's okay to admit that you were homesick sometimes.
At first, I was pretty set in that I wasn't attracted to him anymore. I kept affirming that Dang is hotter. And Dang is hotter, which sounds shallow, but it's true. I've been dating the same kind of guy since I was 16 - personalities have subtle differences, but they're all pretty much the same guy, so something like Dang is way hotter makes all the difference in the world.
But I realized last night that I didn't have to prove that I was doing better now that I wasn't with Danny; that it's not a competition between Danny and Dang. They will never be able to be interchanged. Without Danny, I don't know if I could have been able to handle being with Dang. But without Dang, I wouldn't have been able to handle Danny.
We were supposed to meet at Starbucks on Newbury. Starbucks in Colonie was where we had our first kiss. Starbucks on Newbury was closed. It had to be. We're not a Starbucks kind of couple anymore. The Starbucks part of our relationship (in any capcity) closed at 10 and we didn't get there until 9:45. So close, but a little too late. So we went to JP Licks.
The guy who made me my latte had a tatto on his tricep that said "Don't Panic". As Danny and I were rehashing a ton of shit, "Let it Be" by the Beatles was playing in the shop. Life might really be a TV show.
We finally let our guard down after we finished our lattes. At first, we couldn't even look at each other. And then, while we were talking, he was looking at me. And he had to shift so that we couldn't see that familiar face sitting across from each other. We had to shift to keep everything that was hovering right below the surface from bubbling up again.
We made a slew of promises and regulations to our potential friendship. "No Gin" was repeated about 87 times. We also decided that while we wanted to show each other that we had new tricks, and that our 3 years apart wasn't wasted, that the pride out of the new tricks is far outweighed by the obviously horrendous aftermath of us actually having sex again.
I got satisfaction out of knowing that he never loved that girl (his now ex) the way he loved me. And that all this shit we are going through right now, she'll never get to go through with him because she was never what I was.
He got satisfaction out of seeing how much I had actually learned in the past few years, and my admission that his revenge rebound relationship worked.
We got satisfaction out of knowing that we really did mean that much to each other.
Saturday threw a lot of things out in the open that we had been hiding for the entire time we weren't talking. Yes, I'd talk to my friends and write in this journal about a lot of it....but for every 1 thing I did write or talk about, there were 4 other things I knew I could never talk about. But he and I talked about them. Because we could.
We let all the pain that had be reserved for that place in our gut out onto the bar. We knew that we had hurt each other, but I think that we also know now that we had to hurt each other. We could finally talk about the good times, too. Because when you're wallowing with your friends or begging them for advice while you're getting ready to go to Starbucks and stare down all the bad times, you never really talk about the good times. Because they hurt too much, and you know no one else could appreciate them. So you never talk about them. But he and I could. And even though the details were fuzzy, the emotions were still there. And that made everything - the good and the bad - real.
He still tasted the same when we kissed on Saturday. He still has this freckle behind his ear. I still have long legs and that curve on the small of my back. And he still thinks I'm dramatic. (And I very indignantly defended myself with "I'm a writer!")
But now he has a scar on his forehead. And all of the places he thought were sure things to turn me on have moved. We know each other because we knew each other. But it was good to know that we don't know everything anymore.
We closed down JP Licks and started to walk. I eventually asked him why the hell he dated a girl in high school when he was so far into college. And he said that it was really hard - like....really hard....but "when you really like someone, there are things you are willing to overlook."
All of the things I've been using to pacify why we broke up have been shattered. My perception of him is completely changing. And new things are going in their place. I think I skimmed over this part in my "Growing Up" manual somewhere. "Maturing"?
He asked me if I thought I could ever have sex with him and not have a ton of emotions attached. Since I was still sipping my Latte and still had some crazy (necessary) walls up, I said yes. But as we walked around Boston, ironically ending up in front of the old FAO bulding, I knew that it wasn't true. My deepest fears had come true: my heart wasn't completely purged of him. But it doesn't have to be. It's probably better in the long run if it's not. At least it proves I have a heart. Because that can be a serious issue of debate sometimes. But it's true, whether some people believe it or not; I have a heart. And there is a place for Danny in it. There is just a bigger place in it for Dang. And for micro-brewed dark beers. And for the Yankees. And for the Valkyries. But not for Gin - no, me and gin definitely needed to break up. No love there.
So now I don't have to be afraid of the 7 train in New York anymore - well not be afraid for the same reasons. I'll probably still be afraid because it's sktech-yyyyyyy. And now I can drive down Parker Hill Ave without glancing at his old apartment and wanting to puke - plus I have waaaaaaaaaay more Hill cred than he does. Now he's in Brighton....which is hilllllllarious since I told Dang that that is the one place I refuse to live because it's to sub-urb-y and it's on the B line which means BU & BC kids and why don't you try and kill me? I digress.
There will always be some things that I shy away from because they will always be sacred.I can't even think of examples right now because I strategically blocked most of our good stuff out. So...like...Coldplay. But we both agreed that the Coldplay albums after Parachutes were terrible. Because there's nothing like a band's great first album. And there's nothing like you're First Love.
I have been in college for almost 1900 days. I have been in my twenties for about 1500 days. The next gap I need to bridge between is pub crawls to Volvos. And all the stored emotion of the past 3.5 years since we broke up was released this weekend. All the wondering and analyzing and curiosity driving this journal has finally been pieced together. And this weekend was the grand finale.
So, as bootaaythegreat, I am bowing out. This will be my final entry. I couldn't have done this without my friends and loyal readers from everywhere. We all got through it together. Always remember to keep it real.
For you I'd bleed myself dry,
Bootaay
In July, 2003, I was barely through what is now my six (!!!) year career at Northeastern. I was twenty, facing the transition into my twenties from my teens. I was in a different place then, with different people in my life, and I used this journal as a way to help me (us all?) grow the fuck up a little bit.
Celebrity appearences constantly happened, but one guy has the highest esteem of being the inspiration, directly or indirectly, of most of my subject matter. Without him, I would have never been able to close that gap between senior prom and pub crawls. And as much as I would have liked to deny it on a regular basis, my seeming obsession with our break up, and all my spite and hate and accusations were all because I couldn't believe that we actually had to get over each other.
There have been millions of things that I wanted to say to him, to ask him....and millions of things that I never wanted to say in fear of having them actually be true, or worse, not true.
So I listened to hours upon hours of therapeutic music and dissected and wrote and compared and puzzled until my puzzler was sore.
(My playlist as I write this, trying to decide on a proper title:
Barenaked Ladies - Old Apartment
Lenny Kravitz - Again
Third Eye Blind - Motorcycle Driveby
Death Cab - Tiny Vessels
Postal Service - The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
Staind - It's been a while
No Doubt - Bathwater
Huey Lewis & the News - If this is It
Coldplay - Sparks
Lenny Kravitz - Can't get you off of my mind
Third Eye Blind - In the Background
Barenaked Ladies - Leave
Beatles - Let it Be
Coldplay - Yellow)
And I got over him. And I move on. And I live the life that I could have never imagined, but always wanted.
This weekend, I finally saw Danny for a long time, for the first time in a long time. It wasn't planned, which was the way it had to happen, because then we had to react to each other. I had run over the senario of us meeting up for years; I had the stories I had told a million times over to my friends ready, I had them planned with the perfect punch line and time span for laughter, all of them proving that....I don't know. Proving that I was never hurting after I left. Proving that I had been right, we couldn't have stayed together. But I didn't tell any of those stories. I didn't have any perfect punch lines or planned laughter.
I did, however, have many, many, many gin & tonics. (In retrospect, that was a poor but facilitating choice.)
It was awkward, but it was so comforting in that awkwardness. I was awkward with someone that knew me better than anyone for a span of years in my life. It's like going back to your hometown; you know exactly where you are, but you have no idea where you are. Little changes in the roads happen, and you wonder when they did that. But you're stilll at home, no matter how quickly you wanted to hurry up and move away, it was Home. And it's okay to admit that you were homesick sometimes.
At first, I was pretty set in that I wasn't attracted to him anymore. I kept affirming that Dang is hotter. And Dang is hotter, which sounds shallow, but it's true. I've been dating the same kind of guy since I was 16 - personalities have subtle differences, but they're all pretty much the same guy, so something like Dang is way hotter makes all the difference in the world.
But I realized last night that I didn't have to prove that I was doing better now that I wasn't with Danny; that it's not a competition between Danny and Dang. They will never be able to be interchanged. Without Danny, I don't know if I could have been able to handle being with Dang. But without Dang, I wouldn't have been able to handle Danny.
We were supposed to meet at Starbucks on Newbury. Starbucks in Colonie was where we had our first kiss. Starbucks on Newbury was closed. It had to be. We're not a Starbucks kind of couple anymore. The Starbucks part of our relationship (in any capcity) closed at 10 and we didn't get there until 9:45. So close, but a little too late. So we went to JP Licks.
The guy who made me my latte had a tatto on his tricep that said "Don't Panic". As Danny and I were rehashing a ton of shit, "Let it Be" by the Beatles was playing in the shop. Life might really be a TV show.
We finally let our guard down after we finished our lattes. At first, we couldn't even look at each other. And then, while we were talking, he was looking at me. And he had to shift so that we couldn't see that familiar face sitting across from each other. We had to shift to keep everything that was hovering right below the surface from bubbling up again.
We made a slew of promises and regulations to our potential friendship. "No Gin" was repeated about 87 times. We also decided that while we wanted to show each other that we had new tricks, and that our 3 years apart wasn't wasted, that the pride out of the new tricks is far outweighed by the obviously horrendous aftermath of us actually having sex again.
I got satisfaction out of knowing that he never loved that girl (his now ex) the way he loved me. And that all this shit we are going through right now, she'll never get to go through with him because she was never what I was.
He got satisfaction out of seeing how much I had actually learned in the past few years, and my admission that his revenge rebound relationship worked.
We got satisfaction out of knowing that we really did mean that much to each other.
Saturday threw a lot of things out in the open that we had been hiding for the entire time we weren't talking. Yes, I'd talk to my friends and write in this journal about a lot of it....but for every 1 thing I did write or talk about, there were 4 other things I knew I could never talk about. But he and I talked about them. Because we could.
We let all the pain that had be reserved for that place in our gut out onto the bar. We knew that we had hurt each other, but I think that we also know now that we had to hurt each other. We could finally talk about the good times, too. Because when you're wallowing with your friends or begging them for advice while you're getting ready to go to Starbucks and stare down all the bad times, you never really talk about the good times. Because they hurt too much, and you know no one else could appreciate them. So you never talk about them. But he and I could. And even though the details were fuzzy, the emotions were still there. And that made everything - the good and the bad - real.
He still tasted the same when we kissed on Saturday. He still has this freckle behind his ear. I still have long legs and that curve on the small of my back. And he still thinks I'm dramatic. (And I very indignantly defended myself with "I'm a writer!")
But now he has a scar on his forehead. And all of the places he thought were sure things to turn me on have moved. We know each other because we knew each other. But it was good to know that we don't know everything anymore.
We closed down JP Licks and started to walk. I eventually asked him why the hell he dated a girl in high school when he was so far into college. And he said that it was really hard - like....really hard....but "when you really like someone, there are things you are willing to overlook."
All of the things I've been using to pacify why we broke up have been shattered. My perception of him is completely changing. And new things are going in their place. I think I skimmed over this part in my "Growing Up" manual somewhere. "Maturing"?
He asked me if I thought I could ever have sex with him and not have a ton of emotions attached. Since I was still sipping my Latte and still had some crazy (necessary) walls up, I said yes. But as we walked around Boston, ironically ending up in front of the old FAO bulding, I knew that it wasn't true. My deepest fears had come true: my heart wasn't completely purged of him. But it doesn't have to be. It's probably better in the long run if it's not. At least it proves I have a heart. Because that can be a serious issue of debate sometimes. But it's true, whether some people believe it or not; I have a heart. And there is a place for Danny in it. There is just a bigger place in it for Dang. And for micro-brewed dark beers. And for the Yankees. And for the Valkyries. But not for Gin - no, me and gin definitely needed to break up. No love there.
So now I don't have to be afraid of the 7 train in New York anymore - well not be afraid for the same reasons. I'll probably still be afraid because it's sktech-yyyyyyy. And now I can drive down Parker Hill Ave without glancing at his old apartment and wanting to puke - plus I have waaaaaaaaaay more Hill cred than he does. Now he's in Brighton....which is hilllllllarious since I told Dang that that is the one place I refuse to live because it's to sub-urb-y and it's on the B line which means BU & BC kids and why don't you try and kill me? I digress.
There will always be some things that I shy away from because they will always be sacred.I can't even think of examples right now because I strategically blocked most of our good stuff out. So...like...Coldplay. But we both agreed that the Coldplay albums after Parachutes were terrible. Because there's nothing like a band's great first album. And there's nothing like you're First Love.
I have been in college for almost 1900 days. I have been in my twenties for about 1500 days. The next gap I need to bridge between is pub crawls to Volvos. And all the stored emotion of the past 3.5 years since we broke up was released this weekend. All the wondering and analyzing and curiosity driving this journal has finally been pieced together. And this weekend was the grand finale.
So, as bootaaythegreat, I am bowing out. This will be my final entry. I couldn't have done this without my friends and loyal readers from everywhere. We all got through it together. Always remember to keep it real.
For you I'd bleed myself dry,
Bootaay
