If this essay had a theme song, it would be this.
Leave the light on
For myself when I come home
I recently had one of those moments that made me go “wow, this is true adulting.”
While changing my kitchen light bulb, the old bulb rolled off a table and shattered into tiny pieces on the floor. And then of course while trying to clean up the broken glass, I cut my hand.
Leaning over my bathroom sink, rinsing my bloody finger as Sammy Rae and The Friends played in the background, I was completely overwhelmed. Should I clean up the broken bulb first, or put the new one in the overhead socket? Do I need stitches? Also, I can smell the apple crisp I’m baking wafting through the house and I’m starving.
I eventually got myself together and took care of both the new and broken bulbs. I made myself an easy dinner. The apple crisp turned out wonderfully. And yet all the while, I couldn’t help but think, it would be really nice to have a partner in moments like these. One of us could have swept up the broken glass while the other one screwed in the new light bulb. One of us could have started dinner so that the food would be ready sooner. It would’ve been nice to have some company and support during this ordeal.
I'm not surprised, not everything lasts
I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track
Talk myself in, I talk myself out
I get all worked up then I let myself down
Lyrics from Michael Bublè’s song, “Haven’t Met You Yet.”
I recently told my close friends that I think I have one good heartbreak in me before I take a true dating hiatus. That if things don’t work out long-term with the next person I really give it a go with, I am down for the count and off the market for the foreseeable future.
I got my heart broken recently by someone who I really thought could have been the ever elusive “one.” Or one of the ones. I don’t believe that there is just one soulmate out there for everyone. But I do believe in love. And I absolutely believe in that special inner knowing that spreads through you like a warm ray of light, when you know you’ve found a kindred spirit in the world.
This feeling is not limited to romantic partners - I’ve had this feeling when meeting friends who are now like family. Like when I made my first friend in London, and we bonded because we were wearing the same bag. Or when I met a complete stranger in my/our favorite coffee shop, after only talking a little bit on Bumble BFF.
I’ve rarely had that feeling, romantically. But I had it with this person. A brief, yet gorgeous, flickering flame that I thought would burn for far longer than it did.
It’s scary to admit this, to both myself and to you. Partly because the woman I’m referencing could very well be reading this. I’m not sure if I hope she is, or if I hope she isn’t. Either way, I sincerely, deeply hope she’s doing okay, and finding true peace and joy in her corner of the world.
Sometimes two hearts just can’t dance to the same beat.
So I’ll pack up my things, and I’ll take what remains of me.