Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Deflated Beach Ball Day!

Not enough sunny days.

"It just never got hot enough." She repeats this over and over again, each time her voice sagging further with disbelief.

"Sometimes, summer doesn't come through," you say. You don't know if you'll ever be able to lift her spirits, and you're beginning to think you don't want to try.

"So much cold ahead. So much gray. How will we make it through?"

"Maybe," you say. "Maybe the winter will be mild as well."

She looks at you like you just spent your savings on lotto tickets.

"We need to plan," she says. "We need to be practical. We got our hopes up for the summer and now I feel tricked naked and raped. We need to shop and prepare for the coming months of misery. And, perhaps, the months of disappointment after that."

She takes your head in her hands. "We should assume that we won't be happy anymore. If we start from there, it won't hurt so much."

You rip her hands from your cheeks and you lose your shit.

"Goddammit," you shout. "I won't do it. I won't live under your cloud of black. Rain or shine, there's beauty to be had. If it rains on the beach, I don't want to run into the house and play Monopoly with a cashew substituting for the missing race car. I want to build a castle from the wet sand, because wet sand is better for building castles."

She begins to shiver. "What are you saying?"

"I won't keep you warm anymore. We're breaking up."

You divide up your stuff that night. She sobs steadily, occasionally shrieking "Please," but it doesn't affect you. All you can see is the possibility for an Autumn not spent huddling underneath an afghan !!!WITH YOUR WET BLANKET OF A GIRLFRIEND!!! (that was awesome. truly. the wet blanket under the afghan thing. pure maximum adrenaline rock and roll.).

Happy Deflated Beach Ball Day!