I never thought of myself as a troublemaker.
Trouble just seems to have a way of finding me.
I never thought of myself as a rule-breaker.
Rules just don’t always make sense to me.
And I never thought of myself as a home-wrecker.
It’s not wrecking if it’s already falling apart.
It’s an indulgence.
A guilty pleasure,
a dirty secret,
Where is my self-restraint?
Think about the delayed consequences.
See beyond the instant gratification.
Indulgences are pretty distractions.
It was like sleeping with somebody you used to love.
Somebody you used to call home.
Somebody you tried to make home.
And realizing you don’t know them anymore.
You don’t need them anymore.
You don’t even want them anymore.
It was like that.
Yesterday I went boating. It was a beautiful day to be out on the water.
I love the water. Living in the city, I realized how much I missed the water because every time I flew in to West Palm, my eyes would be glued to the window so I didn’t miss a second of the view of that brilliantly, blue water. I took it for granted growing up. Like so many other things right?
We passed these multimillion dollar homes.
And I’m thinking, “Why does anybody need that?” Maybe I’m still riding the kick from that minimalism documentary I watched the other night on Netflix. But I think it’s more than that. I used to think living in a gorgeous house on the water was “living the dream”. And don’t get me wrong- those homes are stunning. But my dreams are changing.
I was the only lone wolf in the group. Everyone else was attached to a conventional familial unit.
This is my life now. I’m that young, single woman with no attachments who people immediately want to set up with their son who just graduated from college and is home for the summer. I’m sure he’s actually very mature for his age and I’m still actually not interested but I don’t have the courage to shut it down so I just settle for, “Well, I’m flattered.” It’s funny being away from the city now. Apparently, in this part of the world a single girl (woman?) my age is a unicorn.
I didn’t mind it much or think much of it until we got to the sandbar and one of the moms decided to strike up a conversation with me by asking me, “So, do you have children?”
…no. No I do not have children. Nor are children in the near foreseeable future. In fact, I take active measures to prevent even the possibility of having children. I know she’s trying to be nice, I’m trying to flex my empathy muscles and see things from her point of view but my internal monologue is a big, fat eye roll plus a mental note to add that question to my list of the worst icebreakers.
It’s been a while.
It’s been x days.
I want to say,
I hate to admit,
I think about you.
I think I miss you.
There’s something about doing it by hand
washing the dishes
writing a letter
keeping a planner
that technology misses.
There’s something about physically touching it
that helps me understand.
I felt inadequate in that world.
I felt beautiful in his world.
I felt rejected
I felt loved
for a long time.
for a little while.