The first day/night is always the hardest.
This is the first time we haven’t spoken all day since…we started going out back in July/August. And it’s always weird to have a constant in your life stop so abruptly. It’s weird. It’s different. I’m not used to it.
But I SHOULD be used to it, though. I went on nineteen years of my life not having him around, and he’s been pretty in and out of my life for the last two. And this brief four month period that we shared so intimately makes it seem as though I’ve been missing out on something all along.
Our time together temporarily eliminated some of the roughness of life. It gave me something to look forward to. It made suffering throughout the week a bit more bearable. And now I don’t even have that to fall back on anymore.
I went to the grocery store today, and perused the alcohol aisle. I couldn’t even go through without being reminded of him. Ralphs was stocked full of beer that we used to drink together—the special kind, the good IPAs, not the shitastic Coronas or Budd Light. His favorite.
And then I thought about how he told me I was his favorite. Like his favorite beer.
For the moments where we are briefly intoxicated, we never once think about when the buzz will wear off. But we all know, however, that we all must sober up eventually. It’s inevitable.
These associations really need to stop.