A thanksgiving

It’s apropos that I come to write this today.

We were so different, the Canadian and I. So so different. Like a modern day Green Acres.

Okay, well maybe not THAT bad, but one of my favorite quotes is:

“It’s no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn’t even speak to each other if they met at a party.”

and I doubt that Clint Eastwood and Cher Horowitz would get on that well.

We talked about it the last time I saw him, in February.

“Yeah, I like you and you like me, but do you honestly think we have long term compatibility?”

So when we found that we could not make sense
Well [we] said that we would still be friends…

(The humor of quoting Gotye is not lost on me)

We got along quite well, despite our differences, and we often said that we thought we could learn a lot from each other.

And then things ended. As abruptly as anything drawn out can end. Once I got over the shock, I wondered, “But what about all of that ‘stuff’ I was supposed to learn?”

***

I met this guy. Really cool. Funny. Smart enough to keep up with me, which is saying a lot. I was interested.
But the more I got to know him, lovely person that he is, the more I started to see that we would not have long term compatibility.

Which made me think of the Canadian. It made me grateful.
Because I realized that that wasn’t something that I’d ever thought about critically before.

And it’s the second Monday in October, making it Canadian Thanksgiving, making it apropos that I sit down to write this now.

So thank you.
I didn’t get as much as I thought, but I got a lot. I got what I needed.

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About J.

A former twentysomething with a head full of curls and heart full of questions wondering: when we get to nirvana, will there be food?
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