Lost the Found

Today I did it. I removed every piece of Erin from my room. Most of the stuff, the pictures, the candy, the birthday present package of Hershey's Kisses wrapped in a blush bow, these things were removed respectfully, one at a time, within a couple days of our last talk.

However, today, I removed that last worldly reminder of her former presence in my life. The razor she left in my shower. I could write a bajillion different ways that razor could be a metaphor for the ending of our relationship. But, honestly, none of them would fit.

I've gone on with my life. I haven't shed a tear. I imagine most people I know have any idea we're not talking anymore. I'm happy. My life is, undeniably, blessed.

For the last couple of weeks, I've enjoyed all life has to offer. I've commiserated with those near to me, and I've been home to spend time with those most dear to me. The world has reminded me how good a place it is, and that it loves me.

But now that I've put a little distance between the cup and the lip, Erin and me, I have some time to think and maybe lament a bit over my actions or lack thereof... whatever. I'll spare you the results of my self-examination.

But you know, we say things sometimes when we're in relationships. You can call it "pillow talk, baby" if you'd like, but that comes with a sexual connotation most that my words, as well as those of many of my friends, don't deserve. They're rubber cement words. Sometimes we say things hoping that they'll be true; as if the act of releasing them into the air will help them to substantiate and solidify.

But I really don't think such was the case with Erin. I really thought I was in love with her. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. How would I know anyway? Have I ever been in love? Isn't it kind of cocky for people to say they "know" they've been in love? How can you really know until you, well... know?

I don't know. But one thing I do know is that I don't think you ever stop feeling for people. Even if you only love them a little -if there is such a thing- I never lose some of those feelings for people. I will always feel I have a vested interest in Haley Dowdall's life, even though she clearly chose Justin Hamilton over me behind the see-saw in 1st grade. I had feelings for her then, and while the Flintstones' vitamins haven't helped my emotions for her to grow quite as much as they helped my ol' temple, they haven't really diminished them, either.

But I really thought things were different with Erin. I mean, I know they were different from anything I'd ever felt before. I was calm in my excitement at talking to her. She was a woman who could have been my best friend and more. She'd the rare mix of personality that could handle me and beauty that could enthrall me. I thought I'd found her. Sigh, but there's many a slip twixt the cup and the lip, they say. And I guess I've not found my find afterall.

I've been rejected. Plain and simple. But then again, I know who I am. I'm a catch, dammit. And I know this. I'm a good person, future professional, hopeless romantic with a lot of hope and the kind of guy who wants to coach his kid's little league baseball team... someday. I know I'm a great guy and have tons to offer. But that means these women must be crazy, right? So why do I end up with all the psychos? But then I looked at it empirically. The color drained out of my face as I held my cup of hot tea when I realized that the only consistency in all of my relationships was ME.

So, does that make me the crazy one?

I was talking to Mary the other day and I realized that everyone's a little insane. Sometimes when two people get together, their craziness's add and can become explosive. Maybe what we need is to find someone who cancels out your crazy. An electron for your proton. But even then, orbits can get messed up by factors like maturity, timing, law school and parents.

Love -no, relationships- are like a bar of soap. They're slippery as hell. And if you ever want to get any use out of them, you've got to hold them gently, enjoy them, and understand that, sometimes, they're just bound to escape your grasp. So it goes, as Vonnegut would say.

I'm frustrated with Love right now. But me saying "I'm frustrated with love" is kind of like Paul Bunyan looking out at a forrest and saying the trees tire him out. It's what we do.

I'm going to find my someone. I might have found her already. But until then, I'll sit and dream and praise the Lord for that person worth my prayers.

Last "Quiet, Lovely" concert. Tonight. Scruffy Murphy's. 10 O'clizzy.