I forget why I bought vodka, but I remember you saying you don't like Kettle One. You prefer Grey Goose. And I remember buying Grey Goose, not out of some codependent need to please, but in order to be kind.... Out of thoughtfulness. And then I remember you ordering that drink-- the one with Kettle One. And I remember thinking that you don't even know what is true anymore.... And I remember thinking I knew what it was like to have dishonesty and 'little white lies" make up the bulk of what I communicated to others-- even these tiny pointless facts about what brand of vodka I prefer. And I remember giving that up-- working so hard to stop lying in small or big ways; outwardly or by omission. I remember realizing that you hadn't yet gotten to that point and perhaps you never would...

I forget when I seemingly threw out the list, but I remember feeling like I owed you something, for your 100$ donation or all the hours of ecstasy or something. I remember thinking it was my fault because I must be lacking in the communication department or in some other way, so if I just did more of what you wanted, you would be able to show up more... but you never could.

I forget why, but I remember so many years ago thinking that if my appendix ruptured, I could call you. I remember reasoning in my codependent brain that if I were close to death, you would come back, and I could say I was sorry without losing face. I remember thinking that you would be excellent for my death bed, even though you probably wouldn't have been. I remember completely forgetting your self-centered victim thing... but I forget why I thought we could get back together...

I forget my reasoning, but I remember thinking that if I won the lottery, we could finally be together like I wanted. And I remember realizing (much later than I should have) that money was not the problem, despite our regular text jokes about how work was really getting in the way of our sex life and our life of leisure. I remember it hitting me-- you would never love me, because your heart is so broken that it would take some effort to repair it... an effort by you.... an effort you have no desire to initiate.

I forget what it feels like to feel loved but I remember that it has happened before and it will happen again. I remember that once upon a time I knew what it was like to feel I deserve it. I forget what it is like not to wonder if you really do or if you are incapable of or if I am just damaged or if I even need that or if I deserve that... I forget what it is like to feel that "smitten" and "spun" spiral of love and lust and falling and all of the goodness I want and deserve...

I just remember what it feels like to want to apologize for all that went wrong with our relationship 2+ years ago; and I remember wishing more than anything you wanted to show up now... and I forget what it is like to know I am enough; that this will be ok; that love will happen... as the inevitable end of agridulce November days...

It hardly seems worth reviewing now; so many years later; so many lifetimes lived since then.... but it came up the other day, almost out of the blue. Almost. And I haven't been able to shake it as it courses over my skin, biting every now and then when I am not careful enough.
I was fulfilling the "If something else comes your way..." credo, and something else did, and then she did, and then that something else met her... and that something else witnessed my transformation from 'confident and strong' to 'scared and almost puppy-like' just like on that Thanksgiving 7 or 8 years ago... But this time it was me transforming; crumbling into a shell of my former self.
That something else didn't even need to mention it or point it out. I felt it as soon as she walked into the bar or even before. I felt it as soon as I spotted her on the street; hat floating on top of her platinum head.
I remember how it was that day. I turned in my kitchen, and looked at you. "Do you remember what I asked?" I questioned. I know now that I was throwing up walls with every word.... emphasizing each syllable in a staccato that was almost inaudible, but screaming to you and me.
We went about our Thanksgiving, me doing bumps in the bathroom, and you being cordial to all of my friends and colleagues. After spending the weekend talking and fucking under the guise of making love, I returned to my life with a deep exhale... You were gone and I could finally be myself again. And then he pointed it out. I am not sure I ever would have known had he not said anything, though at the time I thought it was just another sign of your shortcomings. He said, "You know she acts totally differently when you are there, right?" I had no idea. I didn't even know what he meant. But then he described how your body changed as soon as I would enter the room.... How you would almost crumble in my presence.
It continued for who knows how long and then we broke up for whatever reason.... and I never thought that would be me... collapsing in on myself in the presence of someone call a lover, though I am not sure there is any love coming or going in this situation.
So now each time she is the something better that comes along, which she always is if she graces me with her presence, I am aware of my body, low power posing, crumbling and breaking...  I wish I could find that strong staccato voiced woman inside of me... and just whisper goodbye.