Sunday, August 1, 2010

Baggage

It was a Saturday. I hadn't seen him since Tuesday, and everything was going so well. I couldn't wait.
"Do you want to meet me and some friends for a couple drinks in the afternoon?"
He couldn't make it.

Eight o'clock. I was drunk. I don't even know how it happened. The hours in between when I left the bar and when I showed up at his apartment are a blur. I can't remember what I said or how it became a huge, escalated, blown up fight.

The tension in his room was too much for me. I huddled against the wall, awkwardly perched under a frame, my head swimming with tequila and my heart hurting from the space between us. "Lauren, this is too hard. We're not even together!" I couldn't cry in front of him but I saw it happening again. I was losing another one.

"I don't understand what we're even yelling about!" I screamed back. All I wanted was to hug him. It had been four days since I'd hugged him and now all of my ugliness was on full display. I was trying to say all the things I thought he wanted to hear but it was like trying to talk under water. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't see straight, I could barely form coherent sentences.

"I can't believe you were going to meet my friends like this." I was suddenly aware that my makeup had all melted off. My hair was a tangled mess. "Your eyes are all bloodshot, you can tell you've been crying." But I hadn't been crying. I was drunk. And I was so embarrassed.

"Part of me wants you here and part of me doesn't want you here at all," he said quietly. I stood awkwardly in silence for a few more moments, trying to think of what to say. I should have walked out. But the last thing I wanted was to walk out without him.

"Tell me what to do," I said. But what I needed to do was crawl back in time six hours. I had let too much slip. I had told him how terrified I was to let myself care about someone and how easy it is for me to tumble into head-over-heels territory. This was the second time I had embarrassed myself like this. The conversation got heated again, and once more I yelled out that I didn't understand how this argument had happened. We were going in circles.

"Okay, now you have to go." I spun on my heel and slammed the door behind me. Every nerve in my body was trembling as I raced home in a cab. I arrived at my front door. I had forgotten my keys.

An hour later I sat outside a friend's house, waiting for her to come home. I got a text. "I wish you were here with me. I miss you."

I feel like the sad girl, like the messed up girl, like the girl who lets all her baggage get in the way of happiness. I just don't know how to break out.

1 comment:

MP said...

sometimes it's just too hard to break old patterns and you just throw up your hands and give up. because you know, or think you know, that that's just how it is. and you know your flaws and your baggage and you can't change them or toss them away with a shake of your head.

but maybe you can. and you hope that the other person is understanding enough to give you a second chance.