Incomplete Combustion

(Writing took a backseat and then it jumped out of the moving vehicle into emails, drafts, and postcards. While rogue, it found itself in the middle of nowhere, without a compass. Somehow we bumped into one another, had an intervention, and now back in familiar space – for now.)

I was kidnapped, really, by my own dereliction. In my crisis was much neglect. Months just up and disappeared while I was doing other things like going postal on my ex over his new girlfriend, dissolving myself in my own lament that life hated me, wrapping myself up in academic writing, obsessing over my latest medical self-diagnosis, coloring my world with travel plans, and opening up myself to the possibility of a relationship.

Many things worked themselves out with less incident than how they emerged, I did little to check in with numero uno. Onward, I went in “this too shall pass” attitude giving the finger to how I actually came out on the other side, lessons that had been learned. I disregarded the details for the forest. But, then, this newfangled, shiny thing came into my life at the last minute. Just about to blow up my online dating profile, one person slipped in almost unnoticed. I was so taken, that I forgot to ask questions, be more conscious and mindful. There were lots of rumblings, chaotic sparks, bellowing and thunderous smoke towards launch – and it almost did, but had as much lift to make a dim thud when it didn’t.

I admit, things were bordered on magical for me, I really liked this person. He was the package. I felt I could not have ordered up a better romantic relationship with long-term written all over it. I thought  I was dialing it in by going slow and being reserved. But, something was amiss, I wasn’t sure if I was being myself or if I could even love this human being. I chalked it up to things being slightly out of relationship sequence with long separations filled by daily correspondence, inconsistent physical intimacy, and needing to get to know one another better, deeply.

However, I never got that chance.

Was it the trip abroad, the lack of vulnerability I demonstrated, the awkwardness I emitted feeling as if I weren’t enough, my shitty complexion at the time, my overall availability relegated to weekends? Speculations a gogo over here. “Thinking of you, missing you” to a cold shoulder that would make Old Man Winter put on a union suit and start a fire.

I didn’t quite get how it went from “fuck yah!” to “meh”. In honesty, there is sorrow and ache in my heart for the time and opportunity I didn’t get, and even more for the things that I didn’t say. I had all the happiness that one would have with bubble wrap, right up to the disappointment of the one that never realized it’s potential, a dud.


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