A few weeks ago, my pal, Jennifer, left me a contemplative voice mail that I haven't been able to forget. She'd purchased a bag of apricots and while the majority of them were unfit for eating, two or three of the little orange buggers were perfectly beyond delicious. "Was it worth buying the whole bag of shitty apricots just to experience the joy of those exquisite few?" she asked my answering machine. It had no answers for her, only rude beeps, so she hung up.
Jen's Bag O'Fruit inquiry launched me in to deep contemplation. In one way or another, I've been asking myself that same question over and over again with regards to my recent romantic drama. Was it worth the current heartache plus a lifetime of never knowing what really happened just to be ridiculously over-the-moon in love for just those four short months? Was experiencing the drastic beauty of all that daily correspondence worth today's crushing weight of silence? Was the act of taking the Big Dive more important than the fact that there was not even one goddamn drop of water in the pool?
I believe that what passes for the modern sage (Hallmark, Oprah, Citibank, Dr. Phil) might reiterate the trite belief that 'it is better having loved and lost than never having loved at all.' Of course, none of these folks/corporate entities moved across country just so they could live a mile from their ex, I'm sure.
Naturally, the question goes far beyond matters of a broken heart. Was it worth my concussion to learn how to snowboard? No. Was hosting a giant ravenous worm in my hip worth three months camping in Africa? Yes. Was it worth getting thrown in jail for public indecency back in the '80s? Um, not sure - I can't remember.
But the current question remains: Was my effort to move to Denver worth the pain of having the love I moved here for evaporate almost immediately? It seems much too early to tell but I suppose I should look on the bright side:
Apricots are in season.
5 comments:
The guy I'm currently dating had the same exact thing happen to him back in January (which is why I wouldn't go out with him then). I did the same exact thing in 1993 when I moved back to Portland only to find out the fire that was there when I was in Portland in 1991 had died. I still feel bad about it, but I didn't want to have a relationship based on lies either.
I'd say from the friends and readers you've made here so far, you are leaning hard into the "yes" turn.
(Man, that was a bad anology)
We got to meet you. That HAS to count for something :-)
And speaking of apricots and ice cream...oh wait...no one mentioned ice cream.
Not yet anyway!
Whoever said it was right: How unfortunate it is that life can only be lived forwards and understood backwards.
You're in transition. You felt dead-ended where you were for a long time, so you took a leap of faith, as you say, into an empty pool.
Bad voodoo indeed, but one day it'll be an anecdote you throw in when you tell your life story. "Useless fuckers? Oh, have I got one for you! Did I ever tell you about the time I...?"
Hang in there. I'm glad you're apparently meeting cool people in the new town, as well as the Pope of Assholes.
If I'm being too harsh, feel free to delete my comments. I'm currently enjoying a lifetime ban from "Angry For A Reason" for suggesting perhaps her Reason was that she woke up that morning. FYI: Feminists and comedy - not always a good mix.
BTW, I can see your friend Howard's halo. Should I notify the church? Does this mean I can see dead people too?
Do you get the sense I'd do anything right now to keep from getting back to work?
I vote for "yes". Because, like Kath said, you met us. I mean, because we met you. And you are a delight. :-)
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