Fifty days was all it took to go from zero through blissful-online-then-in-person love to ‘Uh uh, this shit ain’t right.’ I’m sure that a younger and less cancerous version of me would have maybe made it through 500 Days Of Summer like Joseph Gordon-Levitt, but that would’ve been ten times longer – and that many more cycles of WTF.
Once again, cancer proved to be a pressure cooker on my love life, searing straight through fat and gristle to expose the real meat in the relationship that could either withstand the heat or not. Needless to say, there wasn’t enough meat left in this one for a summer picnic, and neither of us was willing to toss in another leg.
Although, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that part of me wishes he really wants to try to make things work between us. And that maybe I’ll be shaken awake from this breakup like a bad dream, and my next blog post will be all about our romantical reunion? … Hey, where’s my make-a-wish genie?
I’m masking a lot of emotion behind silly analogies (although, fried chicken is delicious), but the truth is … it hurts. This heartbreak hurts. Even with all of the much more seemingly serious losses that I’ve had to shoulder, this wound to my heart from a short romance is palpable. I fell so quickly for him, and foolish or not, I believed in all of our possibilities – I feel no shame or regret in any of it. I loved hard. That’s what I do.
Wow. Listen to me. I’m going on about love and loss like a person who’s been doing some living. How tremendous is it that I now get to feel heartache?!
Not long ago, on one of my sick and feeble days sitting on a park bench masked up and alone, I noticed a young couple around my age walking into the park. With paper coffee cups in hand and in synchronicity, they both laid down long and audible sighs of boredom. You might think that sounds hella depressing, but to me, as a cancerous observer who was clinging onto each of her breaths, I longed to taste just one thin slice of their boring coupleness. At the time, I was living with nonstop medical excitement everyday, and in that moment, I wished for nothing more than to one day be in a boring relationship. I swore I would never take that boredom for granted.
So, in a twisted way, I’m feeling pretty good that someone treated me normal enough to break my heart. It means that my heart isn’t solely meant to only carry me through my own sickness and death. I don’t just make other people sad like sick and dying people do to the living. I can bring happiness and meaning that’s worthy of being in a relationship with me. This is living – trying with someone, dreaming with that person, loving him, failing, hurting and trying again.
I’m one step closer to that boring relationship, and that’s pretty dope.
But for real though, no more online dating for me – that was it. Done.
If you wanna know how I got into online dating, check out okCancer – Cuffing Season On The InterWebs