Particularly when, as you rake over the bones of your relationship, and you’re told that you shouldn’t speak any longer, that friendship is impossible, that unresolved feelings would make conversation too painful…
…when you ask her to send you your house key that she has, and an envelope arrives at your mailbox…
…after six months of intense emotion, affection and romance…
…she’s spelled your name wrong.
Thank you, Deanne, wherever you are. That was the hardest laugh I’ve had in a very, very long time. I had to pull my car over to the side of the road. It felt good to wipe those kind of tears out of my eyes.
Comments (8)
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Dear mother of God in heaven. Just reading this, I laughed so hard and couldn’t stop.
That is priceless! See?
There is hope, my boy. There is hope.
Wrapping it all up with a good laugh, proves that you are indeed, being protected by the miraculous angels of the hard break-ups.
Now, go on and have a drink for me!
Wow. I hope it was your last name she misspelled.
But seriously, I’m glad you can laugh about it. These things can really expand to overshadow your entire outlook. What it took for me to start getting over my ex was realizing that the mourning period had actually begun to exceed the length of the relationship.
Oh, Craig. Do I know about that.
I mourned perhaps double the time ex and I were together.
Then one day it just occured to me, I was waisting my time doing that.
And then I had a beer.
Oh, and it’s WASTING, by the way.
God knows I have no waist whatsoever.
I miss you, man. You never call, you’re never online, you never show up drunk at my house anymore.
Lisa,
I’m sorry. My career as an electric-guitar wailing international music star while being a totally awesome undercover ninja in disguise has kept me sort of busy.
Plus, I’ve had the flu.
I’ll accept that excuse for now. It hurts though, it hurts. I weep.