Friday, January 14, 2011

El Muerte

I caught a reflected glimpse of myself as I was walking in to work today and realized, with a start, that I look like a high end grim reaper. Head to toe in black (hat, scarf, gloves, coat, pants, shoes AND case you needed help deciphering "head to toe"). What was I thinking? I have instituted for myself a "Step it Up Friday" Policy to counterbalance the Casual Friday folks. Step it up for me generally involves a lot of black (as opposed to my normal Mon-Thurs wardrobe which only involves partial black). The high end part would be the patent leather clogs, the curled hair and the eyeliner.

Aside: I made the mistake of googling images of Senor Death to attach to this post and am now totally creeped out. Trust me, don't go there. WHAT ARE PEOPLE THINKING? Really? I get it, the Lord of Darkness touches us all at multiple points in our lives, and he touches some of us a little harder than others but is that really a good reason to tattoo the Pale Rider on your back holding your infant son? Or, for that matter, tattooed to your front clutching each of your breasts in his hands? I can only imagine where that leads and I'll leave it at that. Ahem.

Perhaps the wardrobe selection reflects my current subconscious period of mourning for my recent break up. Well, perhaps break up is too strong an expression. Hiatus, or recalibration or taking a break, perhaps is more apropos. Only, like most of my break ups, I find that I'm not really sure what is going on, when it started, or how to work through it, and I certainly cannot stop thinking about it.

At first I thought maybe it was I who had been dumped, but now I'm not so sure that's it really. I think it may have just been a natural parting of the ways after a period of too much togetherness. You know how that works, you're all lovey dovey, can't get enough of each other, and, in spite of knowing that it will lead to a bad end, you begin to spend ALL your time together. The time you don't spend together you spend obsessing about being together. You talk about your love all the time and your friends, who at first were an enraptured audience for tales of your exploits, begin to yawn mid conversation and look askance for opportunities to change the subject. You're flying along, headed for the altar of happily ever after, when suddenly, after an incredibly intense weekend together, you wake up one morning and realize something is amiss. The wind has changed direction, the temple band takes five.

Acting at first as if nothing is wrong, you continue to go out together, the happy couple, only your outings are cut short and your heart suddenly isn't in it. The guilt ensues and begets a period of self flagellation. You can make yourself love this relationship, you can, if only you try hard enough. Self doubt swirls and you begin to avoid each other's company. You no longer hop out of bed each morning eager to be together. You stay up too late, alone, drinking too much and eating M&Ms. This is not you and yet, somehow here you are. You avoid your old haunts, the places that brought you so much joy, and there are a lot of them so this is tedious and painful. When asked about it you answer vaguely "Oh sure, yes, it's fine," only it is not.

It's not you, it's me. Or so I think. But I still don't know why. Too much of a good thing? Burnout? Probably. But I still love you, love everything about you and I think I truly want us to be together forever. Perhaps I just need a little break. Maybe we should see other people. I don't know. We can try that I guess, but I worry that you won't want to come back to me. That I will suffer in your eyes by comparison. I can't imagine that I would ever find another who can even begin to equal for me the role you play in my life, but perhaps I need to shop around a bit just to make sure that this is truly where I want to be.

All I can say at this point is, forgive me, my dearest sweet love, running, while I take a little time to test the waters.

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