I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my ex, Cognac.
There, I said, I admit it.
I’m not entirely sure why he’s been residing so constantly on my mind, but there it is, he’s been ever present for the last few weeks.
I have my theories as to why he’s hanging around in my mind, but I think the gist of it is simply that I’ve realized I’m ready. Ready for what, you ask? Ready to fall in love again.
No, not with him. I’ve been there, done that. Twice.
That ship sailed, hit an iceberg and sank. Hard.
No, my thoughts on Cognac are simply about the feelings, not the man. Because for all the faults Cognac had, the love was real.
I think all these feelings have been stirring inside me for weeks now, trying to find a way to come together and make sense. For me, being the ever independent, completely content with my life style, single girl, it’s never easy to focus for too long on feelings of loneliness. Even typing out that word seems false to me. I’m rarely ever lonely. Alone yes, but lonely? That’s hard for me to accept. I revel in my alone time, the quiet, the freedom, the ability to do as I please.
If for a moment I get a tinge of loneliness, I pick up the phone, turn on the computer, and surround myself with family or the friends I’ve collected over the years as a single girl.
For I am blessed to have the most amazing family and friends a person could ever ask for.
So loneliness? Seems ridiculous that I should ever utter that word. It’s certainly not about loneliness, but there’s that quiet ache inside for something more. It’s been so quiet, for so long that I barely ever hear its cry. But now and again it does manage to get a little louder, to make itself heard. Lately has been one of those times.
I wasn’t aware of it at first, so slowly was it creeping up on me, with memories of Cognac perhaps, subtle hints, tiny pangs. And then I got the call. A friend of mine, 10 years my junior, got engaged this past weekend.
Chew on that for a minute, because I’ve had to do just that. Let it sink in. Swim around in my brain for a bit.
My immediate reaction was pure and unselfish joy. How amazingly wonderful for her. So in love, so young, so excited and deserving.
And then. A pause.
So young. So in love. How wonderful for her.
So young. How wonderful.
And there it was. What about me? When will it be my turn?
It lasted only moments, and I put it out of my mind. After all, I love my life. Love every moment of my crazy, hectic, spontaneous, eccentric, creative, fabulous single life.
I’m also a firm believer in that old adage of “if it’s meant to be”. “It’ll happen when you least expect it”. Etc. etc. I’ve never been one to “look” for love, it’s always found me unexpectedly and in the most wonderful ways. I don’t believe in focusing all my energy finding “the one” and in the meantime missing out on life. I just live. And because of that, I have the most amazing life, the most amazing friends, experiences, memories, and plans. Life is good.
So, the momentary pang of “what about me” passed quickly enough. Or so I thought.
But I’ve found my mind refocusing on that question more than once since that call on Saturday night. And with that Cognac haunts me. Sneaking up unexpectedly. A song that reminds me of him, a word he used to say, those memories we keep. And I know it’s not about him, it’s about the feelings.
I suppose it’s time I realize that I’m ready and maybe that I want it all a little bit more than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself.
So there you have it.