A Breakup Tale In So Many Parts


Part 50
Part 50: 54 days, 0 hours, 2 minutes since you left me...

I am staying up all night tonight because I fly at 6am.
I don't like to fly so much.
I can't take drugs, because I am a drug addict. So, I stay up all night and pack and clean and then I am really tired and I sleep on the plane. Except at beverage time. No snacks, though. Ewwwww.
I am so tired right now.
I was reminded, as I packed, of the night that you packed my Samsonite bag, which I am now packing, and I thought, why didn't I just give him a Hefty bag?
Because I was in shock.
I remember I asked you to leave and you said that you didn't have any place to go. So I said that I would leave for a little while. I had quit smoking after 25 years. I was about 5 months quit, really quit, I mean, I wasn't going back. I even had my singing voice back and was thinking about taking vocal coaching again to audition for Broadway and Off-Broadway, because. properly trained, I have that quality a voice. I seemed to have given up dreams since we met.
So I went to the deli and I bought cigarettes and a gianormous bottle of Corona, which I did not intend to drink. I just wanted to smell it. I sat outside and smoked and opened the bottle and smelled it. It reminded me only that I had no desire to break close to 11 years of sobriety. Certainly not for you.
I went inside and you were packing (did I mention, MY BAG?). Then, I was just... what the helllllllllllllllllllllllllllll, you know?
What the hellllllllll? What's going on? Whaaaaaaaaat? WTF? Who? Where? Who's sick? Who got shot? Kennedy? What's going on?
And then it just escalated and you were ripping me apart.
The one thing that sticks in my mind, though, is that, after you left, I put on my Birkenstocks to go after you. But they're the slip on, clog-like Birks I wear to the store or across the street or to get the mail. I can't run in them. They're like closed flip flops, for Chrissakes! And my running shoes hang in a shoe thingy on the back of the entryway closet door, so...
deep down, I didn't really want to go after you.
I didn't really want you to come back.
And I laugh when I think of myself sort of flip flopping down the sidewalk, stopping to just call your name, because I couldn't run in those stupid slide-on shoes.
Maybe it's just funny because I'm really punchy and tired. Or maybe it's funny because you were rolling my giant Samsonite down the street just past 1:30am, your out of shape, fat ass trotting to get away quicker every so often like Fred Mertz on the run from Ethel, and I was waddling after you in flip flop Birkenstocks, making a half assed, lazy attempt to catch you, like Ethel Mertz, but on Xanax.
It was a new event in the Special Olympics: The Break Up Games.
Oh, look at me, I'm so tired right now.
I'm going to finish packing the infamous Samsonite bag.
Sleep deprivation is sooooooooo very bad for the mentally unstable, we get manic and testy and depressed and OCD and paranoid and our meds get out of whack all kinds of fun stuff. Wheeee!!!
Should make for an interesting flight.... as long as I don't log into Match.com until then, I and the entire dating world should be safe.
Mwa ha ha!