So me and my two girlfriends (Maghen and Veronika [How I miss you by the way]) used to blaze through episodes of Sex in the City during the summer time. (This meaning we watched a lot of episodes, not that we got high while watching the episodes… that may have happened once though…maybe twice) Anyway, as all girls do, after these episodes we would critique and analyze our own love lives, of lack of depending on the day. One conclusion we came too, was that each of us at one point or another had our own version of Mr. Big.
Some context: Mr. Big is a character in the show that Carrie (main girl) meets in the first season, and they have this long complicated on/off relationship for many many years, during which Carrie can never fully move on from pinning (or longing, if you prefer the more romantic word) for him.
I’ll admit that this past week or so I’ve been in a bit of a slump. Meaning, nothing is making me smile quite as bright and true, I keep missing my bed, and hate venturing out in public. Don’t be alarmed dear audience, I am not depressed, the culprit is actually Winter. It’s hard to stay bright and cheery when your toes are constantly freezing, no matter how many socks you wear, or boots you buy…argh! So I’m in this downtrodden mood, and my Psyche decides it’s the perfect opportunity to fill my head with past memories of my Mr. Bigs.
It’s a little pathetic actually. At the moment there are two Mr. Bigs, of different levels of significance of course. I can safely say I have completely and totally moved on from one (the fact that he was a complete douche bag kind of helped) and am so, so close to freeing myself of the second. But the memories that surface, reminding me of why these guys sparked feelings in the first place, can be a little hard to handle when you’re already upset over frozen toes.
One thing that I have learned, is that memory is selective, and tends to slowly get rid of, or hide away pain, humiliation and regret. What’s left are the happy times, the sweet moments that make the heart warm, or bring a little colour to the checks. A surprise embrace on the street, a quick risky kiss, or tender words of affection. These memories are evil. Yet I will most likely never want to forget them, because they remind me of the fact that such moments can happen again. I suppose you can say that it protects me from staying jaded or bitter for too long.
But I understand such thoughts can also be dangerous, and can drag one back down to longing and pinning over someone who would just waste your time. (The White Stripes song: Wasting my time is such a go-to for me sometimes. It works really well as a slap in the face if I start pinning) The world is constantly turning, changing, and moving, so I have to continue to move forward as well. We all do. The past should stay put behind us. Too bad I’m an amateur historian and can’t help but bring it back, analyzing the crap out of it. As girls love to do.
Another slap in the face that I love, I can attribute to my dear friend Abby: “Steph, you need to find what makes you happy.” Find what makes me happy. This is easier said than done unfortunately. One immediately begins to consider material, and secular happiness. Or booze. But be careful dear audience, le booze has a dual nature. In my experience I either get ridiculously happy, and I mean sentimentally, “I love you man/girl” happy, or downright depressed. Besides, who wants just temporal happiness?
Alright, I think I’ve overstretched myself with this post. I wouldn’t want you all to be bored after all. That would make me a failure of a writer! *le gasp! So I’ll post something funny to compensate: