I remember the day I told my kid sister I was separating from Ex-Mr clearly. We are at Valley Fair, on the top floor of one of the parking garages, just sitting in her car. I stared straight ahead and I shared the entire story without much emotion, straight-faced, without shedding a tear.
She didn’t handle it well. We were her example of love and marriage. We were everything she was supposed to be striving for when it came to relationships, but there I was, all cried out and telling her it was pretty much over. It was if she believed in Santa Claus her entire life and I revealed the fallacies behind the myth. If Ex-Mr and I couldn’t make it after only three years how the fuck was she ever supposed to sustain anything along the terms of love and marriage?
She asked over and over again. I tried to appease her with objective excuses, she wasn’t having it at the moment. She couldn’t figure out how we had failed and how the hell she would ever succeed.
So the truth is I started dating again because I have a deadline.
My sister is getting married in October, she requested I be her maid of honor. Obviously I cannot refuse and naturally I am the best woman for the position.
DUH. *flips hair*
I’ve never had this opportunity before. I’ve never had to give a speech on love, commitments or marriage. I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to deliver it, however—I’ve begun this rough draft in my head. It’s funny, witty and real as fuck. Just. Like. Me.
I realized I need more than a date or a plus one. I need to be in serious love again.
I can write, I can’t necessarily speak publicly. I get nervous. I stutter. I have a difficult time. I’ve gotten better over time but it’s still not one of my strengths. I try though, I really do—but as much as I am confident, I am self-conscious. I’ll take the spotlight, just as long as it’s not literal.
I want someone to take a shot with me before I take the mic. I’ll need him to hold my hand as the clock winds down and it’s my turn to address the crowd. I need to believe in forevers again—because I don’t at this point, at least not for me. I will need the guests to have confidence in me when I say you can beat the statistics, you can grow old together and fuck whatever else comes your way—as long as work on it together. Otherwise… I’m just selling you bullshit.
I don’t want that.
I want to sell you on every single word of my speech. I want be convinced with my own words.
Sadly I can’t do that alone, cynical and divorced. I’m not in a place to reiterate fairy tales or happily ever afters, because I am lightweight broken in this beautiful way that only I can understand—and I don’t mind… I would just like to tell you that I believe again.
Because you won’t believe a word I say… until I do.