02 December 2010

August 2010 | "We're Broken Up"

One week after gourmet burgers, we went to the San Jose Jazz Festival. I was still under the delusion our relationship could be saved. We were doing normal things without any looming obligations. I thought the down time would help us. I thought sunshine would help us, San Francisco had been sunless for a month at that point. I really should have known better.

It was a rough road to San Jose. Jesse was quiet and grumpy, I assumed it was the traffic. Never doubt the deceptive power of the brain. We were listening to a radio station that played Smooth Operator. It felt very middle-aged, to the point of being uncomfortable. I remembered the weekends we used to blast Against Me on the way to the rope swing. I tried to share that, but Jesse was not feeling nostalgic. We bickered over nothing, which was doubly stupid because we were out together by choice. I had yet to know where his head was, so I was confused. We stopped at REI (there was still a camping trip on the horizon) and Jesse picked out a dress for me. You know me, I walked right by it. But he saw it and he insisted I try it on. He then insisted I buy it, because he was still of the mind to dump me and ex-boyfriends don't buy dresses for their ex-girlfriends. I've worn the dress and been complimented every time. Blast him for being right. It is a nice dress though.

The festival was nice. There were several stages and had things been better, we might have embarrassed ourselves dancing in front of the salsa stage. Instead we watched people enjoy the music and the camaraderie. Would you believe this is where I started to get the hint? It dawned on me that he was not inspired to dance with me in that atmosphere of sun, fun, and food). It occurred to me he really was done with us. My response to my thoughts? "He just needs more sun." Self deception at its best.

Giggle.

Merriment.

We ran into someone from my job and I didn't introduce him. I mean I didn't even know who I was supposed to say he was. So I said nothing. We later sat on the grass and shared a turkey leg. The next morning (the circumstances escape me) he said "Danie, we're broken up." It was so matter of fact. I stammered and started what has become months of inconsolable sobbing. It was over for real. And though it was barely noon, he started drinking all the beer and bourbon in sight. Somehow my mom was on the phone, talking to us one at a time. He left. And so (for me), the end began.