This is the worst breakup I’ve ever had and I’m not doing a very good job with it, you guys. Like, if it were a job, I absolutely would have been fired. If it were a relationship, I would have been dumped. Oh, wait.
So I have some things that I’m working on to try and help myself get and be better about the whole fucking mess, and they are serious, but I also thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind myself of things that hurt before that are now just things that I write about on the internet. As in, some day, in some context, this whole thing will be something that I write about on the internet. Hopefully.
In the order which they occur to me, rather than most to least painful or vice versa:
- In high school Andrew, this ridiculously tall fellow who was a grade below me (but my actual age), didn’t want to be my boyfriend even though we totally KISSED ON THE STAIRS. Like, laying down. That shit hurt my back like you would not believe. I don’t remember how I found out he didn’t want to be my boyfriend. I might have asked. I do remember someone telling me that he liked Courtney better and that I shouldn’t worry about it because she was ‘a dog’. That was the first time I’d heard that in the context of calling someone ugly, and I was embarrassed because I thought Courtney was really pretty. I cried a lot. (We’re going to let this story stand in for Brady and Jason and whatever other dumbass boy didn’t want what I wanted when I wanted it too (because he was a person with his own needs etc but it hurt me at the time and that’s what this post is about OK GOD), because if we didn’t this would just be a list of boys who I thought broke my heart at the time). Also, Andrew smelled like dampness, and not in a good way (if smelling like dampness in a good way is a thing that is possible, I’m not really clear on that).
- When I was a sophomore (high school theme, I know), Rose got the role of Rosie in Bye Bye Birdie instead of me. You know how many musicals have altos as leads? Like, two. Bye Bye Birdie is one of them, and she’s a co-female lead, but still. I did end up getting to sing a song at a little metal cafe table while wearing a poodle skirt with several of my best friends.
- I was in science class and Jessica called me a cunt. I don’t remember why but it was certainly the first time I’d heard that word out loud, and I was simultaneously mortified and heartbroken. Also, she was one of FOUR Jessicas in my class, and I don’t really remember which one she was. I might be facebook friends with her now? It’s not clear. Too many Jessicas.
- When I finished my first book (she says casually while the third languishes, ignored, in a window behind where she’s currently typing), I submitted it to the agents of my five favorite authors. Form rejection letters, all around. That is a thing that happens to writers, but goddamn that shit hurt. Then, instead of trying harder, I published it on amazon and felt better. Finding agents that were not already representing world class authors was too hard.
- That one review on amazon. I would link to it, but that would require me to go read my reviews and after that one review I’m never going to do that ever again. It’s funny now, sure, that she was so upset about all of the drinking in a book that is literally NAMED CORKED AND HAS A PICTURE OF A WINE BOTTLE ON THE COVER, but the fact that I’m yelling actually maybe seems like it’s not funny. Nope, not funny. Not upset about it anymore either, though.
- I made 300 cupcakes for a wedding, the only time I had ever made that many outside of a professional bakery setting, and it was 95 degrees and they did not look good by the time the wedding started. I took the money anyway and felt nauseous every time I thought about it for several years. The cupcakes didn’t end up in any of the photos.
See? And that’s not the serious things. That’s not that time I (and several doctors) thought I might have had MS (didn’t). It’s not the loss of Cloey, or my grandma. And I don’t cry (very often) about those things anymore either, right?
Oh! I forgot one. My best friend’s boyfriend, on whom I had a ridiculous thirteen year old crush i.e. I was pretty sure that he was my future husband and the only man I would ever love and the only person who would ever truly understand me, tried to kiss me but for reasons that are unclear we were laying in a pile of hay in a parking lot (Nederland is weird, y’all) and I was surprised and rolled down and hit my elbow and then tried to climb back up to kiss him but I couldn’t find my footing and I pulled down like half the pile. We never got to kiss. When you’re thirteen, that shit is life ending.
So. This is not those things. But this is a thing that will be ok, eventually. And then I will write about it on the internet.