I Would Rather Have The Metaphorical Ones, Revisited

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.


Filed under Love Stinks

5 responses to “I Would Rather Have The Metaphorical Ones, Revisited

  1. Charles

    I know how you feel about masses of happy couples turning what should be a fun time into something annoying or painful.

    I recently went to the Botanical Gardens’ Wednesday music night alone and had to leave quickly because seeing all the happy, beautiful couples together made me start to choke up and tear up a little.

    Really, I shouldn’t have gone in there alone and drunk, but I haven’t gone there with anyone yet this season and the music was sounding great.

  2. That’s precisely why I never go… I have a big tribe of wonderful friends who go to the gardens every Wednesday, but they’re all couples and sometimes it’s lonelier than staying home alone. (Also I can stay home alone in AIR CONDITIONING? That’s the other reason.)

    But guess what – I am moving to the city soon and will be able to SQUID IT EVERY NIGHT with you guys. Hooray!!!

  3. Erin

    Ha…”left me for a party with better food.” Sadly (and also hilariously, but you knew that), for some people, this is all it takes. My most well-reviewed blog was about Graham breaking up with me, and all the other good ones were about morons and evildoers I’d dated. If I had to pick, I’d say the heartache and stress were worth it for the stories.

  4. Yeah, I’d say one of my top 5 favorite stories is still the one where John asked me out to dinner and ditched me to take his ex-girlfriend fishing. It was so stupid and ridiculous that I immediately appreciated it, if that makes sense.

    (I think I actually started reading your blog when you and Graham were broken up.)

    (Oh and I promised Vern I would harass you about coming to her party. You know you have to.)

  5. Pingback: You Will Probably Tell Your Grandkids About It « Secretly Stephie

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