It Can’t Be Like Last Time

When I was going through those early stages of my breakup, one word kept coming to mind: karma.

I couldn’t stop thinking about my ex, Roland and the shit I put him through when he left me.  I made his life miserable.  The works: 3 am drunken phone calls, showing up at his friends parties and the inevitable crying fits that would ensue after too many drinks.  I even convinced him we should sleep together a couple more times (and was subsequently mortified when he showed remorse.)  The entire time I couldn’t wrap my head around how his feelings for me could just disappear and how he could just move on with his life after leaving me.  Now that I myself have flipped the switch on my emotions, (literally overnight) I realize that it’s just something that happens.  Knowing you have to break someone’s heart in order to be happy is one of the hardest feelings in the world.  During those first days I contemplated leaving him I felt so much remorse at my crazy ex behaviour.  I now know firsthand how painful it is to make the decision to end a relationship let alone actually taking the steps to end it.  I longed to re-connect with my MIA ex, if only to apologize.  Unfortunately his engagement to an insanely jealous and insecure woman eliminated this option.  Still, I hope that one day I can look him in the eye and tell him how sorry I am.


When Roland left me, I found myself single and actually alone for the first time in 2 years.  At first I felt liberated, the way I do now.  Yeah sure I was hurt, but I felt kind of relieved and soon after I met Anderson.  He was gorgeous, tall, dark, handsome and athletic.  He was inked up, but came from a respected local family.  He was so good on paper it wasn’t even fair to any other contenders.  When we connected in our Philosophy 101 class we vowed to become study buddies.  Rather than study, we would stay up until the wee hours of the morning just talking about love, life, friends, family, relationships, basically anything besides early philosophers.  Turns out Anderson was still very much in love with his high school sweetheart and had the ED to prove it.  He gradually began to blow me off while I, in turn, proceeded to become needier and needier.  The end of this “relationship” propelled me into a very dark time in my life.

Enter the Darkness
And so I was launched into a world of drunken debauchery and poor life choices.  A world where sluttiness always prevailed over reason and where I would stay for a good portion of a year.  Rather than continuing to embrace my freedom, I chose instead to desperately seek out a new boyfriend at any cost.  I honestly believed that if I could secure a boyfriend I could a) Get over Roland and b) Simultaneously make Roland jealous to the point where he would beg for me back.  A solid plan, all in all.  The only problem was, I had never been a single adult and hadn’t the slightest idea how to approach dating.  My self-esteem was at an all time low and so I began bar hopping and bed hopping in hopes of attracting any kind of male attention and relaying that attention into a relationship.  Pathetic, I know, but I kept at this stupid shit until I started up with him.


Cut to a drunken night out after my latest breakup – a newly single me out with my best girlfriends.  Sendal’s best (and totally platonic) guy friend Dylan had met up with us for a few drinks.  We had already teased him mercilessly about recently becoming roommates with his ex.  We all agreed it was pretty clear that she wanted more than a residential tenancy agreement with him and he did his best to deny it.  As the drinks continued flowing the two of us became very hands on and I declared to all my fiends that before the night was through, we were going to make out.  Maybe I just wanted to prove that I could, maybe I wanted to move on, maybe I wanted to show my friends that I was over him, but for whatever reason I had made my mind up.  After all, he was my type: tall, athletic, tanned, blonde, familiar, safe.  Sendal encouraged me wholeheartedly (my friends love to live their slut fantasies vicariously through me.)  After an impromptu make out at the bar we were rudely interrupted by my giggling and nosey friends who insisted we go get pizza.  Even still, we continued to cling to each other like a couple of school kids and it felt so good to know in that moment that I wasn’t entirely alone.  In the cab home, Sendal and I began to discreetly conspire.  She and Suki were going to suggest we all stay at Dylan’s.  The two of of them would insist on sharing the futon while he and I took his bed.  When I insisted I just wanted to fool around, she assured me that he would never pressure me for anything else.  We snickered over our slyness all the way to his house.  Imagine my surprise when we returned to his house to find his ex-girlfriend/current roommate “asleep” on the futon!  He mumbled something about her always passing out while watching tv (the television was turned off) while we all exchanged awkward glances.  She did her best fake sleepy face and rolled over; it was pretty clear she had no intention of letting Dylan out of her sight.  So I bid him adieu and have the unfortunate memory of aggressively biting his neck.  Before retiring to bed I began plotting to eventually seduce him if only for the pure enjoyment of sticking it to his meddling ex.  In the morning I felt the full sting of my hangover and instant regret for my behaviour and pettiness.  Why the fuck did I publicly pounce on this dude I’m not even interested in?  Why did I try to take his affections away from someone who actually wanted them?  I felt hugely relieved that his roommate was such a cockblock or who knows what would have happened.  On top of everything, Sendal invited Dylan to come for breakfast so I had to make awkward smalltalk while obsessively trying to decode his feelings.  All the while I was scolding myself and thinking “It can’t be like last time.  I’m smarter now, I know better.”

The next time I kiss a man I want to be sure he’s worth my time.


Psychic City

After many tear-filled phone conversations, Sendal and I knew that not only did we need to reunite, but that we needed to bring our other best friend, Suki, into the mix.  The usually rational and sensible Sendal confided in me, “I think we should all go for a psychic reading.  I could use a little spiritual perspective on my current situation.”  I agreed, of course, as I am a faithful believer in all things supernatural.  She got to work seeking out the best (and most affordable) psychic in town.

The night of our reunion, many alcoholic beverages were consumed and the next morning we dragged our hungover asses to the psychic’s humble dwellings.  I zoned out during their readings, mostly because I was so nervous about my own.  When my time came, she asked me what I wanted to explore, I sheepishly admitted that I was curious about what my romantic future had in store for me.  She looked down at my palm and stated, “I see two great romantic relationships in your life.  One is lengthy and is really a learning experience, the two of you have a lot of fun and explore life together.  I believe this relationship just ended or is coming to an end.”  Holy crap! Pretty accurate so far.
“The next one will lead to marriage and the birth of at least one child.  I expect that you will draw the Contract Card in your Tarot card reading.”
Sure enough, not only does it show up, but in the place of my mind’s eye.
“And there it is,” She announced proudly, “I would say you’ll be meeting your future husband in the next 6 months.”
6 FUCKING MONTHS?! You MUST be joking me!  Over the past month I had come to believe that maybe “the one” didn’t exist for some people and perhaps I was one of them.  Here I was, planning a life as an independent woman, accepting and embracing my inevitable spinsterdom and this chick is telling me I can’t even last half a year before jumping into another relationship.  Mind you, she did not state that I would be marrying this individual anytime soon, or even necessarily dating him.  She just said I would meet him sometime in the Spring, and that I would feel myself opening up like a lotus flower and know he’s about to come into my life.  I cringed at the thought of dating anyone, my overactive imagination couldn’t even dream up an eligible bachelor worthy of my affection.  But the more she described this individual, the better my “soulmate” began to sound.

According to her, this man would recognize our connection instantly, he would get me and love me for my true self, and the two of us would know that in our relationship there is no question that is not worth asking.  The thought of someone out there loving me unconditionally, flaws and all, brought literal tears to my eyes.  Suddenly, I realized that all those years I spent telling everyone I didn’t want marriage or children, maybe I was trying to convince myself more than anyone.  Maybe I just didn’t want those things with him.  I left my reading looking over my shoulder, wondering where my “soulmate” would show up, the light inside now a soft, warm glow.