Best if sold by...
After having a significant other disappear on me with no
explanation, the thought of having a relationship with an expiration date
seemed like it might be a good idea. I wasn’t looking for anything serious,
because I wasn’t positive that I wouldn’t completely change course if the
dysfunction came back knocking. (I know that sounds horrible, but if I start
lying on my blog I might as well pack it up and go home.)
So, enter the adorable, charming, smarter-than-smart guy who
needed someone to show him around for a few months while he was here on a special
assignment from work – work that is normally 2,200 miles away in California. (And
I’m not going to say where he works, mostly because they make it very easy to
search for things on the Internet. But they may or may not be the people who
power this blog.)
You know I love showing people around Nashville, so I am
sure that is part of the reason that I decided to swipe right (remind me we
need to talk about this swiping right absurdity). After having a few months of wondering
how I got so lucky with the swiping, I went back and looked at his profile and
I remember thinking that he was my age and liking the picture of him and his
kids, although they are pretty much grown now.
I didn’t think he liked me at first. I’m pretty sure he is a
genius, and hanging out with an actual genius makes me realize that while I am
smarter than the average bear, I am not smart when the only other person in the
room is actually the smartest person I have ever met. But, for some reason he
allowed me to keep dragging him around town, and the next thing you know it’s
been a couple of months.
And, just today, I realized the concept of a relationship
with a known expiration date is the shittiest thing ever. Because all of a
sudden, months went to being days and literally now I can probably count the
hours that I get to spend with him. And that sucks, partly because there are
things I know we probably won’t get to do (like having breakfast at the
Loveless Café and then taking a leisurely ride on the Natchez Trace or him
teaching me how to play his new video game that he’s been super excited about
since the day he got it), and partly because he’ll go back to his exciting life
in tech-land, and I’ll go back to my parade of deadbeats and fuckwits.
Let’s all be honest here. None of us think that lightning
will strike twice. The chances of me finding someone who can keep up with me
intellectually, is actually more progressive than I am, does OK for himself, is
dead sexy without even trying and takes care of me (but not in a non-feminist
way, because he is a way bigger feminist than I am, which I found out when I
went on my bossy vs. leaning in tirade the other morning. I’m OK with being
bossy, by the way.) are pretty slim. I don’t even know where you would find one
of these people here unless they have been sent here on a special assignment
from somewhere else.
Of course, part of me wonders if the reason he’s so awesome
is because there is an expiration date. Maybe he’s being nice because he knows
he only has to put up with me for a few months, and it’s in small doses.
Whatever it is, I’m having a hell of a time, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep
it together when I think about the sand in the hourglass slipping away at what
seems like a very rapid clip. A few weeks ago he told me he was going to be a
little sad when he left. The closer it gets, the less little the sad gets for
me. I’m trying to figure out how to steal a few more seconds and minutes, just
a couple of grains of sand here and there.
Actually, now that I am trying to gain a little nerd cred, I
really wish I had some sort of time machine. Perhaps I could find a DeLorean,
although I’ve always been a fan of the TARDIS, even though you’re apparently
not supposed to call the guy Dr. Who. Seriously, how was I supposed to know
that? I did accidentally watch the SyFy channel all on my own yesterday, and I
feel like that earns me 26 million points if we are keeping score. (And he probably is keeping score because he's a gamer with a highly competitive streak.)
As I was crying this morning, one of my friends pointed out
that nothing in life is guaranteed. We aren’t promised another second with
anyone. And I guess that’s true, and probably the best way to think about it.
No one knows what tomorrow brings, but you’ve all been here long enough to know
that I sure as hell like to worry about it.
If nothing else, spending time with him meant that I missed
that 11:45 p.m. message that could have only been one thing (Sidebar: it’s
funny; he works for the company that is a major reason that we’re all super
connected and have the attention span of gnats, and I very rarely look at my
phone with him; at least I’m not wasting our time together, although today I’ve
kind of wished I’d stuffed a few more things in here and there). And, he keeps
getting after me to finish my half-written novel, so maybe that’s what ends up
coming out of this. I’m working a lot less because he mentioned he only saw me
once a week, and I realized that wasn’t just someone being controlling and not
trusting of me. And every single minute we’ve spent together has been a
treasure. This is probably exactly what I needed after the machismo. I hope,
just a little bit, that I’ve somehow made a positive impact on his life, but I
think that’s probably just wishful thinking.
And who knows, maybe I’ll celebrate finishing my book with a
trip to the land of wine, Ghiradelli chocolates and cable cars. Finishing the
book is actually just ahead of “Go to Napa” on the bucket list anyhow.
Song of the day: Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift
posted by Laura at
12:55 PM
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