Proper Goodbyes

Lately I’ve started to write a lot of things that never seem to get finished. Even my journal entries are becoming difficult to complete. Two nights ago I fell asleep while writing and woke up to find a semi-coherent sentence that slowly devolves into oblivion, sliding off the page with one giant gash of black ink. The next morning the pen was still in my fingers. Re-reading it I was tempted to put a giant red X through the entire entry. Or just torch the journal and start over. I’ve been filling up journals with nonsense for years, and for what? So someone can read them some day long after I’ve taken my last breath and realize what an idiot I was – especially about men? Useless.

I suppose it’s not just journal entries that I can’t finish, I don’t seem to be able to go the distance with a relationship either. I don’t know how people manage to stay married for thirty years without getting sick of one another. Maybe I’m like a relationship sprinter. Or maybe I’m in the wrong race. Or maybe it’s not a race and I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

Thinking back on all the goodbyes I’ve exchanged with men in my life, it’s painfully obvious that in every case I knew what would bring about the end of things long before things ever ended. Sometimes it was on a first date, sometimes it was after a few weeks, sometimes it took two years. In every single case I can remember a moment where I thought, I should not be with this person, but of course I almost never said or did anything about it. I wonder how much heartache I could have saved myself by speaking up?

Maybe it was something superficial – like a ridiculous outfit or an off-color joke; or maybe it was serious – like showing up for a lunch date with a hickey or writing me a rubber check for half the rent. Regardless of what the indicator was, the point is that such indicators actually existed. And I ignored them. That I can remember so many of them with such clarity tells me I ought to trust my instincts a little more in the future. Had I paid better attention they would have served me well.

What my instincts tell me now is that some day, possibly soon, I will be told that my company is no longer wanted. That my kiss is no longer exciting. That it was fun while it lasted, but it’s no longer comfortable to fall asleep next to me. I know this will hurt a little bit, but I will appreciate the honesty. Honesty is important. From now I on I will be honest with myself. Especially about proper goodbyes.

Look at that. I finished something.