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The Crowded Romantic Van you Drive (you, yes — you!)

February 12, 2010

Welcome to a month and a half after Valentine’s Day! Looking for a piece to hit just the right bitter-sour-sweet note?

Consider this: all of your love affairs end up as ghostly passengers in the van you drive for the rest of your romantic life.

They are all sitting in the backseat while you drive.

It sounds grim, but it’s true. You can’t shake it.  The revenge they all take — the jilted ones and those by whom you were jilted — is to occupy a small space in the invisible romantic car you drive, and haunt you silly.  At first you don’t notice; you think it’s something in the water.  Like chlorine, it’s insidious.

You start off all happy and shit. Giggling ‘Oh no, not him/her!’ I tell you: it’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.  That’s when each of you step into the car I mentioned (not a real car, a metaphorical car) where a sliver of you will remain for all your born days, trying to conduct your unfinished business.  It’s tough. Depending on who you are, the car can be crowded. It can be a challenge to be heard over the din of competing voices.

You wonder when you will break off and act autonomously, with some enlightenment. The answer: never. Because it is a spell. You did not figure it out; you thought it was the other person, and it was YOU. The people in the car will not let you off the hook until you understand it is ALL ABOUT YOU.  That’s what I’m talking about. That – you might say — is my little sermon. It may not feel good, but sermons are not supposed to. They’re supposed to grab you by the neck and pull you down like a big fat rock, until you rise up over the water, gagging, and cry: I SEE IT NOW!

I’m just sayin.

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