Beautifully Broken

When Illinois and I broke up I hated how people bashed him. He's not a bad person. He didn't do anything wrong. He was just being himself using the tools life taught him. Those tools did not soothe me or save me when I needed him; they weren't the right tools for me. But that is just happenstance. Clearly, he is able to give Mrs. Illinois what she needs. Unfortunately, what he had wasn't what I needed and I guess I wasn't giving him what he needed either so he bowed out. As much as it sucked for both of us and destroyed both of us for a time; what else were we to do. When people demonized him, it never made me feel better. It made me feel bad for him because he is not a bad person. He's a good person. He's just not the right person for me. That's not a reason to hate him or call him all of the bad names my camp has called him.

Truth be told, I loved Illinois. And Illinois loved me. Our whole relationship took me out of my life into this magical world we created together. It was so easy to be swept up by him. After hanging out a few times at the bar we first met we finally went on our first real date. It was at Raymond's in Williamsburg. He ordered a Polish beer and not to be outdone, I ordered one as well. We talked about disgusting injuries we had had and grossed each other out while he mixed his corn into his mashed potatoes. After dinner, we rented Ocean's 11 and went to his best friend's house(who was away) to watch it. Once we arrived there, Illinois put on Billie Holiday and poured me a glass of red wine. Talk about a, "you had me at hello," moment. We talked easily and had a lot to say to one another. After the movie, we had sex for the first time. After the sex, we were lying on the couch talking and laughing. He wanted to know my last name so he could tell his father that he met a nice girl named Briana _______. I laughed wondering aloud how long we could see each other without inadvertently learning each other's last names. Meanwhile, at the video store, I had snuck a peak at his driver's license and saw his last name. But I didn't tell him. I like the idea of us not knowing each other's last names wanted to play along. Somewhere before 5:00am, as much as I wanted to stay over, I told him I had to go home. I had to work the next day, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, at the wine store and was scheduled to work a 12-hour shift. He drove me home as it started to snow as dawn was breaking. The entire day at work I was floating. The hours passed in a blur of running down to the basement stock room to get boxes and cases, out for coffee, ringing up sales, getting lunch, changing the register tape, wrapping bottles that were to be gifts, running down to the champagne room, calling the boys downstairs to bring up deliveries that were being picked up, and finally closing the register, sweeping the floors, locking up and walking home – still floating. My feet never touched the ground that entire day. It was beautiful.

Eating out with Illinois was an adventure. There is no one more fun to go out to eat with. Little things like ordering more than one drink with dinner took me out of my box of random rules I had created for myself or I had grown up with going out to dinner with my parents who'd have a one drink limit at a restaurant and I'd always finish my chocolate milk before the meal came and they would not let me ever get a second. Suddenly, I could get two drinks or three or four. He had also been on his own since he was 18 and had lived in New Orleans and moved to New York on his own. His independance was alluring. Despite not having gone to college or not having a traditional job or lifestyle, in a lot of ways he was more grown-up than me or my male peers.

Illinois taught me two really important things. Actually he probably taught me a lot more than that. Some of the things I don't want to remember right now. I will save them for my next relationship. But two of them are important tools for my every day life. He used to say whenever I was really upset or really happy that, "it's just life," which serves me well now. I hated hearing that then. I hated it because if I was upset about something, hearing someone say that it was just life and life is like that made me feel very unvalidated. I wanted sympathy not what felt like a brush off. When I was really excited about something I didn't want to hear it either; I wanted someone to be happy for me. But now it has a different meaning.

It is just life. When I get reactions about mine or about my style or about my blog or about choices I've made or about things that have happened to me, I want to say, It's just life. What's to react to. What's to judge. Just because I am open about mine in this blog doesn't mean that mine is the only one that's been messy. Everyone's is. They just don't own up to it. But they should remember that nothing they've felt or thought or done is good or bad; it's just life. It happens. You don't live a certain number of years with nothing happening to you, without making any choices that in restrospect may not have been your best. You don't live a certain number of years without getting hurt or without being scared or without hurting someone else. It isn't a numbers game; it's not a competition. It's just life. It isn't worth living without any of that. That's what makes us interesting and unique and smart and strong. That's what makes us all patchwork quilts. That's what makes us non-linear no matter how hard we want to stay on track, on a certain path, going forward in a certain direction. We can't help but take detours, even when we don't intend to. So I hate getting these judgements. Because there is nothing to judge. It's just life. It's just life. And mine being out there while others hide theirs doesn't make mine more real. It just makes me more honest. Their secrets, their truths still exist, whether they want to own up to them or not. Illinois taught me that. And I took that with me. It's made it easier for me to accept myself and be myself.

Illinois' other constant refrain was, "it's only money." Hearing that made me feel loved and made anything material seem unimportant; which it is. Of course it added fuel to my over-spending fire but while others agonize about student loan debt, I don't. It's just money. And we can make more. And we will make more. Money isn't everything and doesn't mean anything. Personally, I spend what I make whether I am living on the $405/week I make when I am unemployed or weeks like last week when I took home $1800 (usually it's a lot less than that). Obviously, I am always crying poor because I always am but it isn't something that keeps me up nights. I am a breathing, walking, living being and money is just paper. And life is so much more than that. I don't get pleasure from money. I get pleasure from my people, my challenges, my successes, my victories, a good night's sleep, the illusory "best" meat samosa that I can't seem to find and a million other things. Money is a concept; it's not real, you can't touch it and feel it and sleep with it and it will never make you laugh.

So demonizing Illinois doesn't work for me. He didn't do anything wrong. He just didn't want to be with me anymore. He is honest, guileless, never has an ulteriour motive and while timing might not be his strong point, the fact that he doesn't think before he confesses or unloads demonstrates how guiless and honest he is. He isn't a bad person. He just isn't the person for me. And I am not the person for him. And that's okay.