This Memory of Mine

I spent Valentine's Day this year with my little sister Chelsea. She got tickets for John Mayer and as a fan, I happily tagged along. It wasn't until John's passionate voice began caressing my heart did I remember why I wasn't singing along. When Ryan and I broke up a couple of years ago I had to move everything that reminded me of him to my basement. That included all John's albums. There I was at the Air Canada Centre with my sister on love day thinking about Ryan and remembering how torn up I was over ending our relationship. Nicely done Cupid.

Fast forward to May 2010. Ryan had been on my mind constantly since we parted in 2008 and I was finally ready to jump back in, bear my soul and hope for the best. Through countless bbms (BlackBerry messages) we finally decided to have "the talk" on a Sunday evening. As I circled Liberty Village with Gigi in tow, Ryan and I talked about everything that had happened since we parted. He asked me what I was looking for, why I was coming back after all this time and how the break up had felt on my end. Jokingly I said, "I was devastated! I had to banish all my John Mayer music to the basement." I wasn't really joking though. I was sad. I missed Ryan and I often doubted whether walking away from him was the right decision.

Shift backwards to the summer of 2008. I ordered tix to see Johnny at Molson Amp with Ryan. Excitedly I told Ryan over the phone. His response, "Really? I've been watching Ticketmaster all week and I bought two tickets for us also." If you know Ryan, you know what a concert whore he is. He won't accept just any seats, he scopes websites, scours Craigslist and never settles for mediocre tickets. His were better than mine. I sold mine to Rach and her bf and then on a summery night Ryan and I, riding in the backseat of his Dad's car went downtown to the concert.

Ryan sings along when he likes a song, and he REALLY likes John Mayer. He spent the evening with a smile on his face, which makes me melt. Last night Ryan and I went to see John again at the Amp and when Ryan asked me what song I was dying to hear, I had to admit that I had forgotten a lot of my favourites, mostly because the songs I really love reminded me so much of Ryan that they ripped my heart out. When John sang out, "...slow dancing in a burning room" I had to tell Ryan that this song in particular was really hard to hear while we were breaking up. He agreed. I love that song. I think it's sexy, honest and makes so much sense. I've got to remember where I stashed the Ryan files in the basement and start listening again.

When Ryan and I got back together this spring he came over one night with a little present for me. The latest John Mayer album. He knows me well. This time all my Ryan stuff stays out of the basement <3

This Sunday Drive

Last night I took my baby sister to the city for a workshop. Driving down the DVP, I was happy with the weather but bummed about where I was getting off the highway. Going West on Eglington brings me to his place, but last night I was heading East. I glanced down Eglington and wondered what he was doing that very moment. My eyes shot towards my phone and then I looked back at the road. No use torturing myself when the sun is shining.

Further into the trip I cross the Danforth - his old work turf and of course I see the sign for the hall. Deep breath, crank the music and paste a smile on your face! Shortly after that episode the upbeat chimes of Vampire Weekend float out of my speakers and directly into my gut. I hadn't heard of them until he mentioned them and subsequently I'm hooked on their songs while I work. It's happy music and right now it's making me miserable. Fuck! Why is the universe pointing him out to me today? Why can't I just have a regular Sunday evening without being victim to painful memories?

I have to constantly remind myself that he's the idiot for letting this fall apart. When I'm feeling especially weak, I read the sticky note I wrote to myself about why this isn't my fault and how although it sucks, he doesn't deserve me right now. For the most part it helps, but there are moments when I just want to scream.

You find strength when you need it. During business hours, I message my work bestie and she tells me that under no circumstances can I contact him. When I'm on my own, I text a friend to remind me that I'm freggin' awesome and that I can't call him because he bailed on this. Before I go to sleep, I ask a higher power to heal my heart and to watch over the boy. He may have broken my heart, but I still want the best for him and since he can't see what that is right now, I pray that someone shows him.

Each day gets easier and that makes me sad. If I'm getting over him, maybe it was never all I thought it was. If I'm not crying anymore, does that mean it's totally over? This turmoil makes me question a lot in my life. I'm afraid that I was really blind and I worry about my ability to judge the strength of my romantic relationships as a result. What if I had it all wrong? What if it was NEVER what I thought it could be and he was never the person I thought he was? Am I really that naive?

Things are looking up though. I'm taking control of other areas in my life and letting romance roll in as it wishes. I may be broken, but I know how to make myself better.

This Ex/Current Bestie

Tonight I went to The Host (killer Indian restaurant in TO) with my ex/bestfriend, his roomie and her mother. Mattar paneer, good conversation - even the parts that roomie translated for her Cuban mother - and a stroll through Yorkville made for a relaxing evening in the city.

The air was warm and comfortable and I realized how blessed I am to still have Dushi in my life. After a horrible breakup a few years ago, I told him I never wanted to see him again. I couldn't bear the thought of knowing how his life would turn out without me in it. Dushi told me that there was no way he was going to let me forget him and that no matter how much it sucked at the time, we had to remain friends because of how close we'd become in our epic relationship.

I communicate with Dushi on a daily basis. I speak to him more than I speak to my closest girlfriends. I'm not playing favourites, I just share an ease with Dushi that's hard to find in most relationships. Once we were able to accept the fact that our romantic relationship had to end, and the initial wounded heart feelings subsided, we were able to turn our relationship into something even better.

I'm sure there are people who think we're still in love with one another and I can assure you, we're not. If I wanted to be with him, I would. It's that simple. He brings things to my life as a friend that he couldn't or didn't as my boyfriend and we're soooo much more compatible now. I'm not trying to be what I thought his ideal wife would be and he's not torturing himself over not being the guy I needed at the time. We laugh, we talk and most importantly, he's the first person I go to with big news, with heartbreaks, with career questions, with life queries and with basically everything. He's more than just a friend to me. He's one of the most important people in my universe and I feel so blessed to have the relationship I do with him.

You can't always be friends with an ex, but if you can, it's so worth it.

This Retail Therapy

I believe in relationship karma. I don't enter a new relationship with any of the same underwear or pajamas I had in the last relationship. For me, underwear carries the ghosts of boys from a past life. If you see me raiding Aerie this week, you'll know why.

Another thing I always do to move forward from a heartbreak is to buy myself something really expensive, really gorgeous and really unnecessary. A few broken hearts ago I strolled through Holts on Bloor Street laden with a handbag, my daily Starbucks latte, an army of tear stained tissues and my credit card. I found my way to Michael Kors and gave my heart to another man. This is where my personal theme of "breakup bags" began. A double strap, camel, gold and cappuccino coloured canvas bag perched itself on my limp arm and whispered, "It's okay sweetie. He can't hurt you anymore. I'll protect you." Thus began my relationship with my MK bag. It's been beat up over the seasons, but remains my go-to bag since it matches most everything I own. I'm an earth tones gal. My father hates when I wear black, he prefers earthy hues for his eldest daughter.

Last fall, I barely had to twist her arm to convince Rach that we (meaning I and therefore her) needed a trip to Yorkdale for the sole purpose of slamming down the plastic and forgetting about the latest heart turmoil. A fabulous Coach wallet, a dreamy new scent and my first Marc Jacob's bag ever dried up the tears and lead to an alarming call from Visa at work the next day. "Miss Major, this is the Visa Fraud Protection Department. We have some questions about the recent activity on your account. Could you answer some questions for us please?" Holy shit! I really know how to mend a broken heart and tear apart my credit at the same time. After assuring them that my card hadn't been stolen and that I had in fact blown THAT much cash in a single afternoon, I was confident that my new handbag would not only carry all my junk for me, but also accompany me on many new adventures for the purpose of finding true love.

This time, I'm considering an electronic gadget in place of a new breakup bag. After all, I do love all my handbags and a new toy would be more entertaining. Julia told me I have to treat myself last night while we were trying to figure out how to work her new berry. This phone comes with a DVD and a bijillion user manuals, yet neither of us could figure out how to send a text message from it. I can barely use the call waiting on my phone and I may be the last person on earth NOT to have a Blackberry, but today could change all that. I'm sure it will frustrate the shit out of me, make me regret my choice of abandoning my trusty qwerty keyboard slider phone and basically want to tear my hair out, but through that new phone angst I'll have temporarily forgotten about him. It's worth the monthly bill and irritation of programming a new mobile.