I Give Up

And so, i watch another rediculously amazing friend walk off into the sunset with his fiancee. Don't get me wrong - I'm absurdly happy that they will be together after everything that they have gone through. However, there were a few weeks where I wanted her to stop existing so that I could have Him.

"But why?!" You ask.

Because at 2 AM when I got out of work, he is an intelligent and funny bar buddy. Because there were things he knew and wanted to teach me - just because he could and I wanted to learn. Because for once, all my weird habits and quirks were shared or at least appreciated. Because he loved food.

Because he wasn't a chef.

For once I could have a conversation that didn't end up as a shot-slamming competition or a one-upping match involving blood, sharp objects, violence, or debauchery. I could behave like a woman (!) and still be considered an equal without having to spit further or cuss louder in order to get noticed.

It felt better and was more theraputic for me after my divorce than any antidepressant regimen could have been.

B, I know you are reading this. Good Luck to the two of you. I wish you all the luck and love I have to give.