Another year, another chance to watch fireworks alone.
I’d like to think that I have a good sense of humor about being the perpetually single gal. I enjoy the productivity (and occasional attention) that emerges from heartbreak, I can turn even the shittiest dude into a good story, and hell, sometimes I find my bad luck totally hilarious. I mean, every circle of friends needs a girl like me. I’m a good sport.
But watching fireworks surrounded by snuggly couples is the one thing that still kills me. No matter how much work I do repairing my heart throughout the year, when the booming starts and I have no one to hold on to, it starts to break again.
The first two years were okay… I had a boyfriend who lived far away, but I had this hope that we’d live in the same city someday. Maybe next year…
Our long, roller-coaster break-up managed to coincide perfectly with the summer, so the next two years were spent with legitimate heartache. Maybe next year, maybe next year…
The next two years were super single and surprisingly fun, but the Fourth was always a painful reminder of the few painful parts of singlehood. Maybe next year, maybe next year…
Then last year I had someone! And I loved him a lot! And he ditched me for a party with better food. I spent the whole day fuming, and the whole night sad (and remarkakably cold; it was a chilly Fourth). Maybe next year…
I’m at a loss this year; it’s the last summer I will live next to the park and I feel obligated to take advantage of it. However, I’m not sure I can handle Round 8 without letting my bad mood effect my friends. And if the guy who ditched me last year decides to show up this time and ruin another year for me, I’ll probably throw my shoes at him or something awesomely drunk like that.
The Fourth used to be my favorite holiday, but this year I’m pretty sure I will just go home, rock a sleeping pill, go to bed and hope for the best.
Maybe next year.
I haven’t spent the week entirely depressed; Kevin and Monica had their wedding reception and it was perfect. I want to smile when I write about it as much as I smiled when I was there. So it will have to wait til the 5th, when I’ll be fine again. Like I said; it’s just the Fourth that kills me. The rest of the year, I find the bright sides, and there are plenty.
As much as I’ve accepted that love does not exist for me, there is no doubt in my mind that it exists for other people… and I’m so delighted and greatful that it exists for people as wonderful as Kevin and Monica.
I mean, can anyone be sad after looking at that picture? Nope, not even me on the Fourth of July. This picture makes me so incredibly happy. So I’ll leave you with that.