Sunglasses Always Fit

It might only be six pm, but the feelings say it is time for dessert. So I got out the fudge sauce, and noticed there were instructions on it, two sets actually. I found them kind of funny.

The first set of stovetop directions are for people with too much time on their hands, or self-control, that can wait that long before getting hot fudge into their mouths now. It’s like instructions for grown ups, vs the second set, for the microwave, which are the instructions for the single and/or depressed of the world, who are trying to quickly use as few items as possible, so you don’t have to clean them.

To minimize dishes, I always eat straight out of the carton, if possible, no matter the food. I use about fifty forks and one plate in a week, because I’ll use a paper towel instead of a plate, if I can. With ice cream, what you do is heat up the fudge, then pour directly into the carton. This is a one-spoon meal.

Today I took a day to embrace how bad my period makes me feel (my uterus is punching me), to allow myself to ponder and feel my break-up with my boyfriend, and to rest the arm, which is harder than you would think. Actually, think about not using your arm, and it’s just as hard as you would think. Because what do I want to do in my free time? Write, read, play guitar, get to the next level in Candy Crush (I shake my fist at you, Level 102!). All things that require the strength of my arm.

The period thing…I just throw pills and heating pads and carbs at it until it goes away.

But the break up…is starting to get real. It would be easier if I were mad or hated him…but I don’t. That’s why we needed to break up though – before we got to that point where it would end really, terribly, horribly no-good. He’s still one of my best friends, but that’s a relationship we’re used to, at least, having been friends before we started dating.

When we sat down a few weeks ago and admitted that it truly wasn’t working and wasn’t going to work, we both were honest and said we thought we were going to be getting engaged and married. “I thought you were the one!” “I thought you were, too!” “What happened to us?” “I don’t know – this sucks!”

We even quoted “When Harry Met Sally” together, which, ironically, we had watched together a few weeks before we started dating.

“I just thought I’d never have to be ‘out there’ again, you know?”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Then we ate really salty popcorn, drank beer and watched a movie. It was terribly sad, but I think a testament to the fact that our relationship was built on what was a really solid friendship, and the love and respect we have for each other will always be there.

But there are things that I already miss…and I’m sure that will get harder. And now I’m the girl who moved across the country for a boy, but it didn’t work out. And I feel bad for our family and friends who have been so supportive, because your whole network goes through your breakup, too.

It definitely adds an interesting twist to the “what brought you to Durham?” question I get every time I meet someone. It reinforces my belief that you shouldn’t live together before you get married. That you should be friends first and date a long enough time to know for sure that this is someone you want to be with for the rest of your life. It’s painful to realize that I am not that for him, and he is not that for me, but I would rather realize that now, know this pain, and move on and learn from it, than to discover it after an engagement or marriage that wasn’t given sufficient thought. And so I can’t regret coming here.

And who knows, maybe we’ll be apart for a time, grow up a bit more, and then find ourselves back together. But maybe not.

What I’m gonna do with this thing called “life.” Six months ago, I thought I had it all figured out. But turns out there is still plenty for me to learn.

And so this is how girls work –

I group text my best friends an ugly selfie, and they each text one back, as has become our daily habit. I scoop hot fudge sauce directly into the ice cream carton. I plug in my electric blanket and brew another pot of Holiday Chai tea. I wear the comfiest sweatpants I can find, put on cartoon movies and paint my toenails.

It’s all gonna be okay.

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