This Is Who I Am
You Can Like It Or Not
You Can Love Me
Or Leave Me
But I’m Never Gonna Stop

Tonight I had dinner with a friend we used to share. Walking into the restaurant, I realized I’ve only ever socialized with him as half of a couple.

The evening was many things: dating practice. Delicious. Easy conversation. Validation.

I’ve bounced between strong and weak every single day these last months. At best, reminded that he’s done this before, he’ll do it again, it isn’t me. At worst, wondering how much of it was me. Do I have a shelf life? Did he think I was something more than I turned out to be?

At dinner tonight, P reminded me the last time we saw each other was at the U2 show last Spring. He remembered me deciding just before the music started that 9 minutes was definitely enough time to go get a pretzel and decorate it with mustard.

As I rushed back to my seat, still whole minutes before the music started, he remembered what my husband said: “Look at her. How could anyone not be in love with her.”

I remember him reaching for my hand when they took the stage, and me trying to eat the first bite of pretzel left-handed without getting mustard on my face.

Oh Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

Today, unplanned: vacation and Christmas shopping and saving my soul.

All my memories of holiday shopping include gifting the boyfriend (and, once, the husband)

Every Christmas I can remember.

Starting with Bryan Proctor in 7th grade. I don't remember what but I do remember the exchange.

Marcus, 9th grade. The burgundy polo with green horse (in HOT contest with navy polo/yellow horse) given in exchange for an 18 Carat necklace with heart charm. Oh. And a star named after me. That gift exchange bound me to Marcus until February. Our high school code strictly underlined no breaking up with boyfriends who delivered such aw-inspiring gifts. Plus Marcus was a football player.

And then Scott, the next Christmas. Last year he told me he still has (and wears) the grey fleece I bought him when we were 17. Before Old Navy fleece, before it was a go-to. I remember him wearing it most of the winter, smelling like soap, and that I wrapped it in paper with Golden retrievers in Santa hats.

Years and years of college attempts to wow Justin with the perfect thing: a homemade record crate, my own carefully-mixed cd, a ticket to Detroit’s underground dance scene.

Years of buttoned up, practical, uninspired gifts for Craig, the accountant I almost married: Shirts He Needed. Ties He Needed. Music he asked for, Trivial Pursuit.

And then Lucio. Gifts that changed every year, depending what he was into: Clothes. Books. Video Games. And attempts to surprise: theater tickets, concert tickets, hotel reservations, carefully researched and presented as Photo Shop certificates.

So this is maybe the first Christmas since age 14 without some kind of partner on the list. I’ve no idea what, if anything, that means but I had more fun shopping today than I ever have in my life. I stood in lines without getting hot and anxious. I didn’t honk at people who drove like assholes. I cried easy happy tears when Little Drummer Boy played at Bloomingdales. And again for All I Want For Christmas is You at Borders.

I came home tonight and spread everything out on the floor. My heart is full. It feels more like Christmas than I can ever remember.