Our Song

And we laughed into the sunlight

Ferris wheels spinning in the distance

Sunsets and fireflies and your laughter went on for miles and miles

Into the sunset it would never end it never did

Magic hour was on the dial and we had it over easy every morning

With our midnight jokes you said I was funny and you meant it

It was true and I can still hear your voice late at night

Cause you know this montage spins like a vintage record player

Like Simon and Garfunkel in the rain it just passes the time and someday

On a sunny day when you’re walking around town

And the sun hits just right while you’re getting your ice cream

You’ll put her on and you’ll think to yourself,

This was a good song.

Lost Cause

I’m so scared
and it’s already too late
I’ve already fallen
I’m already yours
my heart belongs to you and

I want so desperately
I want so desperately not
to take me back
to belong to me again
and I do

but my heart already knows the touch of your hands
and my heart already knows the sound of your voice when you tell me goodnight

and I already know that when the rain comes down as it always does

All I’ll ever be able to think of is you.

Fragmented Romance – Dating in the Age of Tinder

It took me a while to feel like I could take her toothbrush down from the counter. I just needed to believe that someone was by my side. The thought of walking into my bathroom and seeing one lone toothbrush made me feel empty. I wasn’t accustomed to being alone. Walking into my lonely apartment night after night and hanging my jacket on one empty bar-stool filled me with incomparable feelings of loneliness. I used to stand in the center of my living room looking at two empty chairs, wishing there was another jacket hanging next to mine.

Quelling these feelings of loneliness was no easy task, and despite my desperate attempts to ease the pain, nothing I did or tried could truly take those feelings away. In this fragmented day and age of dating, I was looking for love in a world where love, as I knew it, seemed to no longer exist.

I met my ex-fiance six years ago in an oyster bar just off of the Embarcadero. I wasn’t going to go. I had decided last minute that I was going to try to make it – just in case. I remember standing there by the water with my headphones on, trying to pretend I wasn’t preoccupied with the thought that I was to look for “a tall redhead, you can’t miss me.” As I busied myself with looking busy, I quickly glanced over my shoulder and noticed her walking towards me. Feigning nonchalance, I introduced myself as I noticed the glint of her hair in the warm summer light. Continue reading

Remembering 500 Days of Summer – When Love is Lost

Watching 500 Days of Summer for the second time got me thinking about love, and what happens when love ends. In the film, Tom has a jilted and awkward conversation with his ex-love Summer after running into her after a long period apart. Their resulting conversation made me think about the artificial distance that two people who once loved each other create when they are forced to see one another again.

Tom and Summer’s exchange was filled with empty inquiries as to how the other person was doing, and what they had been up to after all that time. They spoke as if they were strangers. The truth is they had shared a bed together, had fights, watched movies together, held hands in IKEA together, and spent intimate moments together talking into the wee hours of the morning. To see the two of them conversing so politely and acting like they barely knew each other was all at once disconcerting and heartbreaking. How sad it must be to love someone so deeply that if that trust were to be broken, one would have to keep an artificial distance just to stay sane in that person’s presence.

What broke my heart even more was the scene where Tom discovers that Summer is married. In that scene, Tom revisits a part of the city where he and Summer used to idle away afternoons together. Summer happens to be there as well, sitting at another bench.

“I thought you would be here,” she says, as she greets him unexpectedly. Dressed sharply in a business coat and dress, Summer looks decidedly married. There is a definite air of unattainability in the way she looks at Tom. It is evident that she is happy with the way her life is going. While Tom is hurting and missing her, it is clear that Summer is merely curious about his life and simply wants to know that he is happy. She is no longer his. She is gone.

The pungent mix of emotion that comes from being so in love with someone who now belongs to someone else is more than hard to take. Seeing that person happy and having them tell you that they are now sure of something that they were never sure of with you must feel like a giant tear in your heart. The feeling of that lack of control – the mismatched desire for someone that almost makes it seem like life should recognize such strong love by making things fair – that someone you love with all your heart should love you back – is untrue.

Ex-lovers try to avoid that dangerous potency of love and that fire of emotion by creating artificial distance, but the falseness of a feigned and distant conversation is as revolting as it is sad. The truth of the matter is that every person who was once part of your life will always have been a part of your life, never to leave your timeline. I’m not going to say that everyone who has been in your life was there for a reason, because it simply isn’t true. Perhaps there wasn’t a reason. Perhaps you did not learn some lifechanging lesson by being with them. Like past seasons, however, they were all different, and they all happened.

Seasons change come and go. To pretend as though a season in your life never happened, however, is strange. The next time those rust colored leaves fall and you are reminded of the past, just think to yourself, “I remember.” This does not mean that you long for that period in your life to return, or that you wish it would never come back…you just remember. You accept it for what it was. You do not think about what you thought it could be, what you wished it would have been, or what you knew it could never be. It just was. I think there’s something kind of beautiful about that.