Jay Elias | You can take it with you

"I have wasted Time, and now doth
Time waste me"
- Richard II

2002-02-16- 4:18 p.m.

Champagne In A Paper Cup

The girl that you sleep with for the first time doesn’t really take that much away from you. A degree of innocence, sure. A certain number of misconceptions. Some of what was left of your childhood.
The first girl you breaks your heart; and I mean really breaks it, tears it in two; well, she takes away so much more. All of your romantic illusions, all that Disney and Nora Ephron movie shit about true love and happily ever after, all of that is stolen from you. People who are in love for the first time don’t hold on to their old apartment when they move in together. They don’t hedge their bets, making sure they won’t be hurt too badly if things don’t work out. Even Donald Trump didn’t have his first wife sign a prenup. These things only exist in the vocabulary of the once broken-hearted.
And losing the illusions hurts so much more than losing your lover. Because I don’t miss Lynn. At least I don’t miss her much. And it doesn’t really hurt me that much anymore that she isn’t here, or that she doesn’t know how my life is going. It really doesn’t. Like with most things, my love for her, and my pain at her absence, has faded with time.
But lying here in bed with Sivan, I can’t feel like it is all sunsets and anniversaries from here. I know all about the good times that are ahead, all of the kisses and breakfasts and wintertime walks home where the air is so crisp and cold that you feel more awake and alive and just the feeling of her hand wrapped in yours is enough comfort for all of the heartache in the world. But I know better than that now, and goddamn it, Lynn, you took it all away from me. Every anniversary can turn on you, and every winter walk alone that crisp cold air can cut you if you aren’t ready for it.
And even though I don’t miss you anymore, Lynn, and even though it doesn’t hurt that you are gone, I lie here in bed and can’t feel like everything with Sivan and I will be okay. And that does hurt, still, and a lot, and I do miss being able to feel that way. And time is no salve for that wound, and distance has not healed it.
Love is a promise, you see. Love is being able to tell someone you’ll be there for them. Love is being a hand to hold. Love is listening with the indulgence of a parent for their child about someone’s bad day, even if you’ve had a bad one yourself, and are tired, and would rather just lay back, turn on “Friends”, and feel your mind rot. Love is a shoulder to cry on. Love is bringing someone chicken soup when they are sick. And that promise lasts forever, lasts beyond a lust that drives you into bed three times in two hours, lasts beyond the eager calls that you make all too often in the beginning, lasts beyond when having to share your bathroom and your bed become less a pleasure than an occasional chore. Love is a promise that can last longer than the love.
We make these promises for the first time, and we know not what we do. Stronger than wedding vows are the promises between first loves, and harder still to keep. Every time you call, and I see your numbers on the caller ID, my heart beats a little faster and breaks a little more. I don’t want to keep my promises anymore, Lynn. I don’t want to be responsible for who you are now, or to fix you when you’re broken. But love’s promises don’t let me off easy; they sink deep down into the bottom of me, and remind me that I meant every word that I said. And that you did too. We meant it all, even the awful and hurtful stuff at the end.
I don’t really remember much about what I had before I had sex for the first time. My misconceptions and my innocence are vague memories. And I can’t say that I particularly would like to have my childhood back; knowing what I know now, I could make some improvements but the idea of not knowing what I now do and having to learn it all again frightens me to my very core. But I do wish that I could have my optimism back, and that I could lie here at the happy beginning and see Sivan and I walking down that winter street and smile.
I want to be able to tell Sivan these things. I want to lie with her, and make new promises. I want to mean them. And I want to be able to just see the joy in the promise, not the weight of it if things go wrong. Over every horizon, the sun sets, yet over the horizon, she rises as well. I want to lie back in this bed and watch the sun rise.
Those were good things, and worth having.

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If you want to make me
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Older

Doesn't Take Much and That's Messed Up - 2004-03-15
Like Water Under Bridges - 2003-09-08
Jesus On The Dashboard - 2003-08-13
An Administrative Announcement - 2003-08-11
Don't Worry, It's Coming - 2003-08-02

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