The Truth of the Matter.

The truth of the matter is that it don't matter. 

Mary's father song plays in my head and makes me want to buy a record player. I think I'm going to.

But here is the truth. For once in a blue moon its good to not be cryptic.

Actually, you want a couple of truths? 

I'll start with one that shouldn't matter to me: 

First truth: I resent a younger girl for stealing my break up. That's right. I do. I spent two months in two different therapists office shifting through my feelings alone in a corner and coming out the other side a stronger person baffled by the amount of time I spent putting everything I had into taking care of another human being. She has spent five months talking to everyone, having everyone's sympathy about the same person. She used the worst night of my life as a metaphor for her own writing and it still bothers me. I don't know why it bothers me so much but it does. She stole my break up. Part of me is glad I dealt with it all alone [and with the help of two therapists and my best friend] but yeah mostly alone. The thing is, I'm fond of this girl which is why I can say with every bit of love in me: build a bridge baby girl. I would let you walk on my bridge if it was at all the same situation, but it is not. 

Second truth: I continue to be shocked that I have fallen so in love with a robot and that robot has fallen in love with me back. After the initial rocky start and the questioning if it was the right thing to do to stay together over the summer I am sure that it is. We talked at 2am my time, 4am his time and he told me how much he missed me. How happy I make him. When did this happen. How did this happen? How did we get from that night in the fort with the whiskey and the kiss that made everything disappear and me thinking that it was never going to happen again to here? It makes me simultaneously happy and sad that this will only get to be what it is for one more year. I didn't think I would fit with someone like this. It brings a whole new meaning to the song Red Right Ankle for me.

Third truth: I have been in love three times.  The first time embarrassed me. The second time made me vulnerable. And the third time has made the tips of my fingers tingle and my lips go numb. What fascinates more is the sensation of falling out of love. I have fallen out of love two times. The first time happened long after it should have, I looked him between the shelves of a used book store and I realized didn't ache to know what he was thinking. The second time we stood in the hall way of the building and he yelled at me and held his heart and I realized I didn't ache to have his attention. 

Fourth truth: I don't want to begin to think about the third time I'll fall out of love.

Some sort of boyfriend soundtrack.

I've been listening to my ipod on shuffle. I am challenging myself to listen to every song.  It has made me realize I associate songs with people. So here is the soundtrack of boyfriend's past and one bonus track for my current relationship.

Track One: Blister In The Sun- Violent Femmes
 
Track Two: Cold Day In The Sun- Foo Fighters 

Track Three: That's The Way- Led Zeppelin

Track Four: If You're Wondering- Weezer  

Track Five: Every Man Has A Molly- Say Anything

Track Six: Beyond The Sea- Bobby Darin

Track Seven: The Sound of Settling- Death Cab For Cutie  

Track Eight: Sunshine- Matt Costa  

Track Nine: Oregon Girl- Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin 

Track Ten: White Blank Page- Mumford & Sons  

*BONUS TRACK* Track Eleven: A Girl, A Boy, and a Graveyard- Jeremy Messersmith

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy

This is usually true for me. 

At 10:15pm just before we touched down in Los Angeles, I looked out the window of the airplane and listened to a song. I felt the lump in the throat rise and all I could think was how inappropriate it would be to start crying on this airplane. 

Especially because I had absolutely no reason to cry. 
I was happy. 
I finished the most personally challenging year of my life, I was about to be home and see my friends, I was in love again... 
and that is when it happened. 

It was one of those strangled pathetic sobs that you try to hold in as long as you can but at some point it just comes out. 
I covered my mouth, looked over at the older woman a seat away and smiled apologetically. She looked back and smiled. I turned my attention back to the lights outside and it happened again. Then the tears fell and I couldn't stop them. I was mortified. 
The older woman put her hand on mine. 

"Are you alright?" 
"Yes. Yeah. I'm okay. This is so embarrassing, I'm sorry." 
"Don't apologize to me. What is the matter? If you don't mind me asking." 
"I don't. It was a tough year. When I say that it sounds stupid it. It sounds like something horrible happened to me. No one died, I didn't get hurt or diagnosed with some disease, it was just hard. I was tested. I've known who I am for so long and this is the first year I questioned all of that." 

I stopped. I couldn't believe I had just told a stranger all that. Usually its strangers that tell me whats wrong in their life, not the other way around. 

"Sorry. That was a lot of unloading on you." 
"I don't mind. I'm sure you would listen to me if I had something to say." 

She squeezed my hand. 

"Its okay to question everything, to not have a handle on things. Trust me. You have time, but don't wait around for everything to happen." 
"I don't plan on it. Thank you for listening." 

that must be my kind of love.

We walked through the quad of the high school across the street from my house and sipped champagne straight from the bottle. 
We talked about camping and seeing stars and dying and being together for a long long time. 

Sometimes I wonder if we talk about our future together because we both know it probably won't happen. Sometimes I wonder when we talk about how I bring out the best robot in you and you bring out the best robot in me we're just saying that because it sucks we're in such different places in our lives. Sometimes when we talk about having kids together in ten years I wonder why I couldn't have met you later in my life. 
But it was good we have this time now. 
We needed each other. 
We didn't know we needed each other but we do. 

I think about where I was six months ago and it doesn't seem real. 

On January 1st, at 6am I sat on a plane, in the seat by the window, trying to think about putting myself through giving everything to another person again. I knew I would, it became my nature, I just knew it wouldn't be for a long time. 

The past four months have proven my theory. 
There are very, very different kinds of love. 

The Dragon Lady.

As I sat at intermission for a show I had seen so many times and still wished I could have been in, I watched my former professor and his wife interact. They stayed in their seats as the house lights went up and he whispered something in her ear. She slapped his arm playfully and threw her head back and laughed. Then she said something and he laughed and patted her hand. He noticed me looking and waved me over. 

"This, my darling Sarah, is the Dragon Lady. Dragon Lady, this is one of my favorite students of all time, the famous Sarah." 

I shook her hand. "You don't seem like the Dragon Lady to me!" 

"I'm not. But I could be if I wanted to." 

I smiled. 

Then my professor said, "Does that handsome boyfriend of yours know how lucky he is to have a cougar like you?" 

"I think so." 

Then the Dragon Lady said: "Remind him all the time. Because that my dear, is how you become the Dragon Lady." 
My professor laughed and kissed her hand. "It's true." 

See. That is what I want when I'm one hundred and fifty years old.