Tomorrow my favourite city and I will be reunited and I will feel the tiniest and I will walk the streets like I know where I'm going and I will strut along like I belong there and I will jump and snap and freeze frame the moments and wonder and guess what waits for me in Toronto when I finally return.
And before all this leaving began, this is what mattered.
This space has been empty for too long because I've been elsewhere (really!) and not because there are no words left because there are actually too many (really!). The past few weeks have been a rush of stasis turning into movement multiplied by a thousand. I went from jobless and unsure to employed and a little less unsure for the time being. I missed a boy I shouldn't and then I missed another boy I also shouldn't and now I don't know who (or what) I miss. I watched my city burst orange and red and I saw the days cool and darken sooner and sooner than before and I felt my spirits sink more and more each and every time. But I ate pumpkin pie four days in a row and I warmed my belly with turkey and stuffing and I danced in the kitchen with my four year old cousin in my arms and I felt a little orange and red inside myself. I went east and I'm packing to head slightly south and I still pinch myself because I can't believe I've been lucky enough to see this much this year. And today I wore a cap and robe and walked across a stage and shook hands and fully closed this chapter and realized I did it alone in the best possible way.
Change was the name of the game this past year and this year is winding down because it's dark by seven suddenly and everything I've been anticipating is now past and I have no thoughts in my head except that my rent just bounced and oh my, shouldn't I do something about that? and why why why is the sky only ever grey these days?
I've taken to walking home after work even though it takes an hour and even if the sky is that grey because the fresh air feels perfect after an afternoon surrounded by computers and I can listen to Sherry on repeat and feel as though there is a whole lot up ahead still waiting to be anticipated.
It's 3 am and time to get my head (and heart) out of the clouds and plant my feet firmly to the ground. It's time to get my life (back?) on track. It's time to get a job. It's time to stop holding onto the hope of it all. It's time to realize that if he was "into me," like they say, we would have brunched or talked for real or at least texted (!) by now. It's time to realize that broken boys can't be fixed, and even if they could, it's not up to me to do the fixin'. It's time to figure out what I want. It's time to clean this room. It's time to read a book for pleasure again. It's time to take a long walk into the sunshine and it's time to jump in puddles when the rain comes. It's time to hope and dream big and it's also time to let go of some of those hopes and dreams that are weighing me down.
Since when did "not wanting a boyfriend" turn into sacrificing self-respect? I'm no one night whatever or rebound this or late night that. And maybe these boys don't see that because I'm not letting them see that because I don't want whatever the alternative may be and maybe I'm going for these boys who won't see because I don't want the ones who will. I want to wash everything clean and I want to bury deep under these covers and hide away until the sun promises to stay for real this time. Tonight I walked by his apartment and his bedroom light was on and his curtains were pulled back just far enough to look in and catch a glimpse of a life I barely remember anymore. Standing on that street corner, I was no longer waiting. I was just cold.
And can "not wanting a boyfriend" carry with it a little dignity and comfort? Is it possible to meet before last call and talk about your day and ask about his and have him ask about that day you talked about the last time you two met before last call? And is it possible for him to place his hand on your knee, and keep it there, because he wants to and not just because he knows what follows last call? And can you take this boy home and put on your favourite record and listen to it while he kisses your face and while he kisses your neck and while he kisses you all over and can you even listen to this favourite record when the kissing is all over and the lights are off and you're under the sheets and he's under the sheets too because he's sleeping over and not running home at five am? And can you wake up to this boy still holding you tight and can you turn over and kiss him good morning and kiss him some more and then when the kissing is all over say "hey, do you wanna grab some brunch?" without any hesitation because you know he'll say yes. And afterwards can you hug goodbye and say "talk to you later" because you know you will even though you don't know when and even though you won't think much about when that will be because he said "next time" in passing the night before?
And is "not wanting a boyfriend" even possible when you are me and want the comforts and securities of him without any of the messy expectations and realities that follow?
The name of the game was simple: don't get attached. Easier said than done for someone who isn't me. Attached to what, I don't know, but attached I've become. Attached to my phone and attached to the possibilities of a new night and attached to that first moment of hope that hits you as you close the door behind you into the dark for the first time and attached to that first breeze that blows your hair just right as you strut down the street believing in the possibilities of the night and attached to the way those possibilities grow and build bigger and bigger with each beer that goes down and how these possibilities soon become possibilities you actually find yourself believing in because it's 12:30 and you are texting him and he is replying yes yes yes and this is the fourth time he's said yes so of course it means something or you at least really really really want to believe it does and attached to the way he places his hand on the small of your back as you swig back more beer because you know how the night is going to end and attached to the giddy cab ride home and one last cigarette before a walk up another flight of stairs and the shutting of a door. And you are mostly attached to the way he holds you tight afterwards and how you believe it' somehow matters each and every time.
