Out with the old...

Those who say that art imitates life would be proud of their accurate proclamation tonight. For tonight, I watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" on my first date since the end of, well, you know. With that said, first dates aren't really first dates at all. As Van Wilder says, first dates are interviews. Yes, we went to a movie on our interview, which I know is a big faux, but I've known her for quite some time. Perhaps more on her some other day. Perhaps not.

Some would speculate that my purchase of those two tickets is an indicator that I relish the pain. Quite the contrary. It's therapeutic, though, to see someone in the same position as myself, be it a real person or a character in a movie. This character was a top flight wank for about 3 weeks after the mythical breakup. My mourning period was a bit shorter than that, but I was kind of a wank, too. There was a bit of internal concern that this movie would rehash a bit of whatever it was I was going through, but the truth is, it showed me that my reaction wasn't abnormal or dramatic. It was natural.

Losing "that" person is a tough one, especially when you're the only participant in the failed relationship that wasn't aware it wasn't the right one anymore. In a perfect setting, both people receive the signal in the sky at the same time telling them that the shit just ain't workin'. Well, this isn't perfect, nor is it easy. Relationships are difficult. The writing was on the wall for a while before the end day, but the emotional investment doesn't turn off like a light switch, although I wish it would. Everybody has been through this sometime in their life, and if they haven't, I hope they do. Not because I'm sinister or wish anyone harm, but because it makes the good times better.

Without the pain, the anxiety, the nausea experienced by an unforeseen, kick-to-the-stomach split, there's no yield sign in your brain to tell you to wait awhile before saying what you want to say. There's nothing to tell you that time is actually of your control and if you don't run towards a label, that same label will find you when it's supposed to. The thinkers die in this game and those with their heads in the clouds excel because they just don't know any better. I'm a thinker, but I'm trying real hard to look above the clouds.

You know what happens to the character trying to Forget Sarah Marshall? He burns all pictures, throws away all reminders, and completely drowns in his sorrows hysterically for three weeks. Then he mans up and finds something else, and he does it better the second time around. Will I do it better with this girl? Well, what I learned is that this wasn't a date at all. It was two friends enjoying some Thai food and a funny, strangely therapeutic movie about redemption. Before, well, you know, I would have wondered what the next step was. I would have overanalyzed every giggle and uncomfortable silence. I would have screwed it up before it started. Then I would have kicked myself for doing it. Times, they're a-changin'.