Wednesday, June 11, 2008

An Affair to Remember

(Photo Credit: Barbara Kinney, Hillary Clinton for President)

It’s over and you know it, but you’re having a hard time letting go. She couldn’t have been any clearer. She was hurt, too – reluctant, disappointed, honest about her mistakes – but in the end she insisted it was time to move on. She begged you to make a clean break and not waste time looking back, wondering what might have been. “Life is too short,” she gently reminded you, “time is too precious.” She even tried to push you into the arms of someone else, someone with whom, she was convinced, you could do great and important things. Meanwhile, everyone around you is high on consolation and full of advice about what you should do now, claiming she was never right for you anyway. “This other guy,” they say, “really, he’s the one.”

But your broken heart is stubborn and slow to change. For months, you felt as close to her as the tick is to the dog, and you rode the roller coaster of her shifting fortunes. When she was up, you were high as a kite, giddy with possibility. When she was down, you crashed to the ground, convinced the world was ending. Now that it’s over, she still haunts you. You remember all the little things about her you found so captivating – her laughter, her tears, her feistiness, her – yes – feet. You wonder how she is, what she’s doing and feeling. You search for examples of others who are suffering as you are to see how they are coping. You take comfort in the words of praise being showered upon her, even from those who once criticized her and always thought you should be with the guy. You get satisfaction out of the murmurs of criticism suddenly being aimed at the dream guy, as closer scrutiny reveals he may be mortal after all. “Told ya so,” you churlishly mutter.

How can you mend a broken heart? You try shopping, but the new gadget you want won’t be available for a month and the furniture you ordered won’t be in until fall. Clothes shopping is no good because every pantsuit reminds you of her. “I bet she’d like this one,” you catch yourself thinking. “It’s just the right combination of elegance and practicality.” You hit the gym for the first time in months, thinking exercise would be a healthy distraction, but even your iPod is an instrument of torture, as cheesy Madonna lyrics manage to summon up her image: “You always love me more, miles away / I hear it in your voice, we’re miles away.” You’ve got a business trip/vacation coming up, so you could be planning an Arctic adventure, and there’s a long list of movies you didn’t see and books you didn’t read while you were sitting on the couch all those months, waiting to see how things would work out with/for her. Still, nothing feels quite right yet. Nothing really satisfies. A certain bitterness lingers.

Come on now! Get up! Get out! Move on! She wouldn’t want you pouting! Remember what she said as she was leaving?
[I]t would break my heart if, in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged any of you from pursuing yours.

Always aim high, work hard, and care deeply about what you believe in. And, when you stumble, keep faith. And, when you're knocked down, get right back up and never listen to anyone who says you can't or shouldn't go on.
Hear that? Get right back up, she said! There's work to be done, dreams to be realized, new worlds to be conquered and new love to be made.

Right, yeah, sure, be right with you . . . .
I'm like a fish out of water
a cat in a tree . . .

I got a big chain around my neck
And I'm broken down like a train wreck
Well it's over I know it but I can't let go
Well it's over I know it but I can't let go
Well it's over I know it but I can't let go
Well it's over I know it but I can't let go

6 comments:

  1. I feel a disconnect, just like I felt in "the awful time" in 2000 while we waited for the votes to be recounted. Bewilderment? Distrust? Depression? Disbelief? Loss of faith? It took a looong time to shake it then.

    Your post hits it. I just keep my fingers crossed I will be able to commit come November.

    Buster's Mom
    The Floribbean

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  2. Oh Rox - Mom is listening to this:

    Mad World (Alex Parks version)


    All around me are familiar faces
    Worn out places, worn out faces
    Bright and early for their daily races
    Going nowhere, going nowhere
    Their tears are filling up their glasses
    No expression, no expression
    Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
    No tomorrow, no tomorrow

    And I find it kinda funny
    I find it kinda sad
    The dreams in which I'm dying
    Are the best I've ever had
    I find it hard to tell you
    I find it hard to take
    When people run in circles
    It's a very, very mad world mad world

    Children waiting for the day they feel good
    Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
    Made to feel the way that every child should
    Sit and listen, sit and listen
    Went to school and I was very nervous
    No one knew me, no one knew me
    Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
    Look right through me, look right through me

    And I find it kinda funny
    I find it kinda sad
    The dreams in which I'm dying
    Are the best I've ever had
    I find it hard to tell you
    I find it hard to take
    When people run in circles
    It's a very, very mad world ... mad world
    Enlarging your world
    Mad world

    Strange she thinks in songs like you guys do.

    And I caught her listening to Leonard Cohen when she thought no one was around! This is serious.

    Bussie Kissies
    Buster

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  3. Geesh now it's The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize!!!!!

    I'm even drowning here!

    Buster

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  4. Relax, Buster -- Humans of a certain age just do their thinking/feeling through music, usually super bummed out music when they're feeling down and troubled and in need of loving care. She'll bounce back. The music will help. Time will help. Maybe a margarita or three on some nice Florida beach as the sun goes doen. Maybe some positive step on the part of the Lesser (of Two Evils, aka Obama) to engage Clinton voters rather than trying to scare them into voting for the guy who just barely beat the girl.

    Who knows? An old dog can dream -- and the best dreams end up with me alive and getting a tummy rub!

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  5. After their Temple was destroyed, my ancestors sat by the rivers of Babylon and wept for hundreds of years. Literally -- hundreds of years. Compared to that, five months, or eight years, is not very long at all. Just to put things into some terribly awkward perspective.

    I wish I could encourage you to go outside and enjoy the weather. But this is DC, the only place I know where going outside in June is tantamount to punishment. So instead, I say snuggle up to a paperback copy or a DVD copy of Primary Colors and relive the whip-snappin' glory days of Miz Hillary.

    As F. Scott Fitzgerald said so well, "There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice."

    ReplyDelete
  6. I can appreciate the commitment to memory and feeling that would lead a people to weep for several hundred years, but we're hoping the moms will snap out of their lassitude soon.

    Meantime, if we're trading summer reading/viewing recs, here's one for Obamaniacs: Being There. ;-)

    ReplyDelete

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