I went to pho with my dear friend. We were sitting outside, eating delicious soup. My friend gave me their basil; I gave them my cilantro. Probably that’s love, that considerate sharing of resources.
I thought of my not-quite-ex, the one I loved before, and what she gave me: my recent situationship. She was the first person who brought me to that wonderful Vietnamese restaurant.
It’s hard to describe what she was to me. I could say cuddle buddy, unrequited love, in-town bestie, or the one I tried so many times with. She did love me back, this transwoman I adored. But not with sex.
I often blamed the estrogen pills she took. She was not that horny and in fact almost never came. One day she told me she bought a new dildo and had an orgasm for the first time in a year. Wow, I had no idea.
Hormones are a factor, one of many. What mysteries determine who our bodies say that carnal yes to?
Thought I’d make some lists of what she gave me. It wasn’t all heartache.
what she gave to me
knowledge of that delicious pho place
took me to my first noise show
second, third, etc noise show
abundant touch and cuddle
saying she loved me– often
inviting me to live with her on her elsewhere land
trying to be family with me
part of a rewedding ceremony with my spouse
letting me love her a lot
treasuring the love notes I wrote to her
together visiting that synth store in Portland
playing theremin, a lifelong dream
she liked my art
she called me prolific
my writing was special to her
the finest transwomen instagrammers
insight about gender
local thrift stores
affection for her favorite corner store
appreciation of my half-naked selfies
when she slept in my arms
the first half of Hedwig and the Angry Inch
wow
Wow, she sounds great, right? Goes to show how someone can be very good and very bad.
I’ve listed the good of what she gave me, but I’m not going to list for you the fear, the harm, the lashing out, emotional pain, deep confusion, and how much energy I chucked into a half-workable dissatisfying, exhausting, wretched situation.
Some of the things I loved and lost. I’m not going back to her favorite corner store despite my affection for the owner, mostly because I know she walks there every day. I don’t want to run into her there. It would be cruel–she has so little. She deserves that corner store.
Some of the things I can keep, like my knowledge of noise and gender, and the transwomen instagrammers.
Now I will list some favorite and weirdest things I remember.
weird
Our first meeting when she invited me to go to the thrift store with her, and I climbed into her truck thinking, “I don’t know this person but why not.”
Asking, “What’s this?” and being told I was holding her deceased aunt’s cocaine spoon.
Feeding her green beans from my green curry in front of her parents.
Meeting her drug dealer.
The story she told me about when she died doing synthetic weed with her ex-girlfriend, and her spirit was flying around the room.
When her boyfriend dumped her over text on our porch.
Her ongoing explanation of what the Grateful Dead is and was.
Her infodump of how to make hash, two different methods.
All she told me about working in the weed growing business, plus how much she spiritually loves the plant.
library
You know that quote about how when a person dies, it’s like a library burning to the ground? Losing a relationship feels like that too. Breakups are overwhelming loss.
I couldn’t do it anymore, but I treasure still what I loved.
One reply on “what she gave me”
[…] The first time I touched you, I felt your remarkable open heart. That instant feeling of cozy safety had never happened to me before. My impulse is to go toward you and sink as deep as I can into that goodness. My whole self wants to be close to you. […]