Thursday, March 02, 2006

Vestiges ...

You thought there would be no more posts about G?

Neither did I.

It's not about him, really. I think it's an expansion of yesterday's post about boyfriends past and the discussion I had with a friend the other day about "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," that you don't want to erase all memory of a certain someone, because that erases both the good memories and the bad.

I like to think that any bad ones - unless they were really bad ones - fade with time, and the good ones get tucked away, and float to the surface every so often, conjured by something seemingly unrelated, but related because our brain can connect disparate dots, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon about just about anything.

And so it is with G. This morning, I got out of bed and, for some reason, looked at my pillow. Before G (B.G.), I slept with many pillows. I was the puffy pillow sleeper. He is a flat-as-a-pancake kind of guy. I bought a pillow for his place, but I only used it a couple times, partly because it wasn't comfortable, and partly because if I slept on the puffy pillow and he slept on his pancake, our heads were at different heights. So when we'd stay at my place, I edited the pillows down to two, the squishiest, for us to sleep on. And that's carried over. G is no longer a part of my life, but I've adopted his pillow protocol.

Other things are more obvious (the vase he gave me for Christmas, the spontaneous earrings), some are more obscure (paying my Marshall Field's bill today - the lone charge for an umbrella I bought him to replace one that got ruined on a windy Chicago day, the fact that I now buy organic milk because that's what he needed to drink), but there they are, part of my life's fabric now.

When it ended, I wrote to him, my side of the conversation I wasn't able to say that night, and one of the things I wrote was this:

"If we don’t talk again, there are a lot of things I want to thank you for. I’m very glad that I met you, and I don’t regret for a moment our time together. You’ve made me think things and feel things that I haven’t thought of and felt in a long time. I liked having someone to share my love of music with and my love of cooking with and my loves of many other things with. Ezio is playing as I write this, a reminder that you introduced me to many things that make my life richer. And I thank you for all of them."

The other day, I cleaned out my closet, and folded some sweatshirts, spreading them out on my ottoman first. G used to do the same with his shirts. Well, I'm sure he still does.

And in a development I couldn't have predicted, as I'm writing this, he just popped up on my screen in an IM. Yesterday, I sent him a brief note, letting him know about a wine event at Bistro 110. He's always wanted to try the restaurant (it's literally in his backyard) and he knows about wine. Seemed like something he'd like to know about.

So he just popped up to thank me. It's a little odd to chat with him. The same, but different. More distant, less familiar. Polite.

It's only been a month, but it feels like forever.

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