Dear J
You missed a spot.
I was lying in bed last night, staring at the ceiling when I noticed it. Remember the day we painted my room? I was neurotic about that color. But you were right. The green wasn't too yellow once it dried. But in the very center of the ceiling, there's a spot where the dingy yellow of some previous occupant's smoking habit shows through the bright white. I was staring at it last night before I fell asleep and dreamt about you.
We were in Paris. Going to school. And, beyond reason (as is the case with most dreams), we ended up in the same lecture and afterwards, alone in your room. I knew I didn't want to be there. But you wanted me, and somehow I felt vindicated and justified and appeased all at the same time.
At first, it was perfect delirium, like being drunk on sunshine and kisses. But then, in a familiar tangle of sheets, I realized something. It wasn't about me and what I was feeling. It wasn't about me at all. It was about you. Was it always? Probably. So I climbed out of your bed and gathered up my things. Of course you wanted to know why. But I said nothing and left. And then I felt proud and disillusioned and indignant all at once.
So, anyway, you missed a spot on the ceiling. But then again, you missed a lot of things.
And me? I miss how you smell.
H
FISHY FISHY FISHY!!!! SEE YOU ON SATURDAY! YAY!
Posted by: Joe CuttheShit at March 12, 2003 10:36 AMOh, Joe, that will be SO great! It's been months!
Posted by: Fish at March 12, 2003 11:10 AMSmells get me everytime. After waiting for months for my ex to send me back my things, I finally got the box and opened it, inhaled, and burst into tears.
Posted by: Sarah B. at March 12, 2003 11:14 AMI remember how each of my ex-girlfriends used to smell (for better or worse). The nose is an oft-overlooked part of the whole human-sexual system.
As far as the ceiling goes, you can leave the spot to remind you. Or you can cover it up. But then you'll remember covering it up. Oh, never mind.
Posted by: Texas T-bone at March 12, 2003 11:14 AMI really believe that the smell is the most important thing. Without compatible smells, there's no point in going any further.
Sadly though, the right smell on it's own is not enough.
Posted by: elizabeth at March 12, 2003 11:56 AMI had a shirt that smelled like an old girlfriend. I loved that shirt but washing eventually swept away her smell. I love the smell of people you love. It's one of the best things about loving people.
Posted by: Michael at March 12, 2003 12:55 PMI've started taking a later bus in the evening, because someone wears the same cologne as J on my regular bus. I can't stand to smell it. It makes me feel hungry and antsy and all sorts of feelings that make a bus ride very uncomfortable.
Posted by: Fish at March 12, 2003 02:27 PMPouring over photographs.
I'm living in your letters.
Breathe deeply from this envelope
it smells like you & I can't be
without that scent. It's filling me
with all you mean to me.
"living in your letters" dashboard confessional
you metioned singing dashboard in the car with J earlier and i thought these lyrics fit with this smelly theme. by the way, its a great song too!
Posted by: hubs at March 12, 2003 04:31 PMbeen listening to them all day. not good for the mood, but great music.
Posted by: Fish at March 12, 2003 05:17 PMBoyfriend-y smells can certainly bring on a flood of tears. Stay strong, Fishy. You're an inspiration!
Posted by: michybrit at March 12, 2003 05:27 PMi sometimes enjoy torturing myself - i'll stop by the men's cologne counter to sniff the scent my ex use to wear. just to remember him for a few minutes and then move on.
i've always found scents haunting.
Posted by: michelle at March 12, 2003 06:19 PM"But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists..., after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection."
From my favorite passage in Swann's Way, by Marcel Proust. You reminded me of it.
Oh, God, the smell. It's the smell that makes me want to go back. It's the smell that makes me want to cry. I miss the smell too.
Posted by: Sweet Jezebel at March 13, 2003 10:11 PMmy dumping ground utility closet smells like my ex, for no apparent reason. i don't think he's ever been near my closet, for that matter. maybe it's the febreeze bottle i tossed in there. or just that stale-plastic bags-towels smell. i miss the smell of his body, his bed, his roommate cooking greasy food. i miss him. we're all going to be fine, though. we get by.
Posted by: sassylittlepunkin at March 15, 2003 07:57 PM