I love my friends, very much indeed. Without them I wouldn't be sane. But my ultimate loyalty doesn't lie with them.
And lately, when boys are trying to shift our friendship into something deeper, I can see that they aren't strong enough, aren't serious and deep and wide enough to want to live somewhere else. Maybe that's the problem with Edmonton boys. They are comfortable here, and for them, comfort is the highest level they strive for.
I want to strive for more than just comfort. More than just fine, dandy, happy. More than just OK. I swear, this place has sucked me into a vortex of being complacent and accepting of my life however it looks. I want more. I need more. I want better, higher, faster, stronger.
Last night at the Christmas Eve service, I knew in my utmost soul that HE would be there. And afterwards, as I was flying around the lobby in my heels and fur coat, I saw Him out of the corner of my eye. I thought I was used to this, but still my face burned then all the blood drained away and I was sweating and shaking. Should I go say hello? It's been 3 1/2 years now, I can do this. And I turned my back to Him, took off my coat and scarf, and ran. I ran all the way down the stairs and through the doors to where my friend was standing, and I grabbed her hand, trembling, said He is here. Just in the lobby. I can't go back out there.
She knew who I was talking about. Darling, are you sure? Put on your coat now, and your scarf. You look beautiful. Stop shaking. I'll walk out there with you.
Mutely I obeyed, still holding her hand, plastered a smile on my frozen face, and we walked out. He wasn't there. He was gone.
I swear He was here just two minutes ago, I said. Of course, maybe you were just imagining it dear.
No no, I protested. He was there, talking to an older man, with slicked back hair and blending in as always.
Euro-trash, she muttered. Well, I'm glad I can call Him that now.
I managed the beginnings of a real smile at that. Ha, yeah, He kind of is Euro-trash, eh?
Later, because none of my family saw Him, and I was feeling like a paranoid schizophrenic for imagining Him into existence on Christmas Eve, I texted Dr. Sexy (one of His old best friends) and asked if He had been there. Yes, said Dr. Sexy, He was there. How are you?
Merry Christmas, I replied. Thank you for proving my sanity.
One year, when I am maybe not so young and naieve, and perhaps I have returned here for a visit after a long absence, I know I will run into him and be able to greet him graciously and maturely and generously. The time will come when my body and brain don't shut down and go into fight or flight mode. I'd like to be looking beautiful and successful and have a gorgeous man or two on my arm, but if that's too much to ask for, then just make me kind.
Merry Christmas everyone, and may you all be filled with joy and light and most importantly love, and I wish with all my heart that no one runs into their ex's for the rest of the holidays. Be safe.