Saturday, August 4, 2012

Coup De Gras

Films live and die on this shit: you know the scene—crafted tear jerker at the finale—my friends watch, cheeks wet with tears, as one lover utters some variation to the other, “I love you, so I have to let you go.”

Cue rousing music. Cue audible sobs from the audience. Cue Erin’s gag reflex.

Yep. Nausea. The physical reaction so often induced when my mind screams, “Fuck that noise!”

Y’all love each other? Be together. Very simple. And—better yet—don’t make me watch it. That’s my motto.

And then I saunter off—secure in my superiority over all the chumps whimpering into their Kleenex--to watch something with lots of violence and very little dialogue. Like Conan.

But, dear friends, it appears I may be getting soft in my old age.

I know, I know: “Say it ain’t so!”

I’ve been fighting it for a while…but with the embrace of “Casablanca” as my favorite film of all time, well, it’s time I looked my true nature in the face.

Friends, I AM A SAP.

Like an addict standing for the first time in 12-step, I simply MUST put it out there.

I believe in love.

And--what’s more--I have finally stepped into my big girl panties and put down my childhood tantrums.

Sometimes love means we don’t get what we want. Sometimes love IS NOT, in fact, about how someone makes ME feel. And—gawddammit!—sometimes love actually does mandate that I set my own desires aside so someone else can be happy.


It’s like nails on a muthafuckin’ chalk board. I think I may be sick. (Error nausea. The worst kind. Even trumps “Fuck that noise!” nausea. Likely because there’s some pride swallowing involved.)

If there’s anything I abhor more than some rah-rah noise about “love” and “letting go” and “learning” and “growing”, it’s being wrong.

I hate, hate, hatey, hate, hate it.

Like cheese. I hate that shit too.

Still, better late than never in coming to the enlightened, unselfish side of the tracks. The view’s different over here, and I’m trying to get used to the smell…but my faith and my gut tell me I’m right, and, as the nausea subsides, I actually think I’m gonna grow to like it here.

The above is the smash ending to my all-manner-o-awesome blog, but I think my inspiration deserves a shout out. So here goes:

For that certain *selfish someone reading this—you know who you are—the last month with you has opened my eyes to so many things. And though we may not know where the road goes, I know it’s the path I wanna be taking. I’m glad I’m taking it with you. And cap’s tipped to Ms. C as well. She’s shown me much about love and sacrifice. And the power of late night Benadryl.

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