November's theme:"We diverge and I collapse into my bed/And you are shoved awkwardly into my head"
A Separate Lid Behind Closed Eyes

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Jason recommends the album, American Weekend by Waxahatchee

When We Two Parted - November 25, 2021
Catfish - November 22, 2021
XV - April 04, 2016
- - April 04, 2013
Welcome back?? - April 04, 2012

November 22, 2021 // 7:37 p.m. // Catfish

2007 was the year it all began to fall apart. I have memories of going to the Sundance Film Festival, seeing an artist that I had introduced her to 2 1/2 years earlier and it being one of just a handful of messages we exchanged that month. That spring, it was more of the same. Sometimes weeks, maybe a month between messages. I have a vague memory of driving to a mall and thinking that I should reach out to her, as it had been *that* long. After a year and a half of doing this online, it was taking its toll on us.

I don't know how she felt, but in hindsight, I don't think my heart was in it. I still admired so many of her qualities, but if we were barely exchanging emails (and who knows how far below the norm the phone calls and texts had gone) then it was on its last legs.

I bring all of that up to setup the end of the friendship/relationship/whatever. One of the things she loved teasing me about was a celebrity crush that I had on an actress/musician. In September, I found out that she was touring, and the artist we both loved from the first paragraph would be opening as the supporting act on the tour. Perfect, right? Crush and favorite musician on the same stage on the same night?

Sometime that month, I found out about a contest she was running on a fledgling social media site. It was simple: in conjunction with her lead single, tell your greatest breakup story. The best story from each city would win two tickets, a chance to see her soundcheck, meet & greet passes and an autographed poster.

The way this contest was setup was the website looked like a message board. Each city had its own entry, and you posted your story in the city you were entering. In short, it was public. Not only could you read the other stories, but you could see how many others entered from your city of choice.

My plan was to read the competition, submit my story on the last day, and wait by my computer to find out that I'd won, since I felt my story was pretty good. Day after day I checked the website, read new stories when they popped up and felt comfortable in my chances at winning. On the last day, after reading all ten or so stories, I submitted mine, noticing that not only was my story written better, but it was simply a better story.

A few days later, I got the notification that I'd won and my instructions for the contest. The next task was figuring out who I was taking. My friend Cori was as big of a fan of the headliner as I was, and I asked her to go, but she was too indecisive. If I recall correctly, it was about a week before the show, and I told her I needed an answer quite soon. After she was unable to give me a confirmation, I let a friend of mine know (who also had a crush on the headliner) and I told him the plan.

You'd think I'd tell the girlfriend now, right? After all, she would relish hearing that I was going to meet the actress she loved teasing me for liking and hearing that our first relationship ending was the catalyst for winning. But I didn't. I don't know why, but maybe that was the biggest sign that things were ending for me. This should have been huge news to share, but it didn't warrant a mention to her.

I didn't know it at the time, but our last email exchange was five days before the concert with her giving me her new cell phone number. I replied by stating I'd save it, but I don't think I ever did.

As for the event, things were great. I saw my sister's ex boyfriend in the line, we got our photos taken with her, watched the soundcheck and enjoyed the show. When nobody contacted me with the photo (despite us following the directions by providing email addresses and a description of our clothing) I began to get nervous. Four months later at a concert forty miles away, I ran into the photographer, told him I hadn't been sent my photo and he said he'd get on that next week. A few days later, it popped up in my inbox, and at a gathering with the person I went with, I informed him, and forwarded it along.

If I keep up with this site, a lot of it will be my thoughts about the gal mentioned throughout. It was rocky (for reasons I may detail here) and this site is where we met, so I find it fitting that this is the place to tell the story. I feel I need a public place to get these feelings out to replace the walls of my brain where it has spent the last fourteen years.

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