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.