I sat at Love & Loss by the water this morning, the sun hitting my face, as I waited for my colleague to join me. I sat there for almost an hour. Another hour that I sat on loss. I have been sitting on loss for over two years, since a few weeks after I first heard about Bang Bang. The first time he made me cry. I was sitting on loss when he called me to talk about it and I asked him if I could come over, so we could talk in person. He said no. Maybe that’s why he said yes, because when he said no, I couldn’t respond. I didn’t want him to know I was crying and I didn’t know how to get a word, audibly, to come out of my mouth, so I didn’t say anything. I sat there on loss and cried silently while he sat in his apartment on the other side of the phone. He must have figured it out and he changed his no to yes. We sat on his roof that night and drank vodka and talked about what we were, what we wanted from each other. Everything changed that night. But nothing ever got better like it was supposed to.
When things ended between us, I found myself always going back to sit on Loss. I read books on loss. I waited on loss. I watched on loss. I checked my phone over and over on loss. I sat on loss while tourists took pictures. Loss loss loss loss loss. Where’s the & Love? Don’t I get that? Don’t I deserve my turn at that? How many guys do I have to lose before one loves me? Before one will fight for me? Am I really so unlovable? So unspectacular? So boring? So ugly? So not worth taking home to meet the parents? So not worthy of love? Ungirlfriendable. Hours I’ve spent over the last two years and so many months sitting on Loss looking out at Puget Sound, that neon red ampersand a beacon of something hanging above me.