Put the Fish in the Freezer

I thought I'd heard every possible break up story my girlfriends could tell.

I was wrong. 

A friend of mine — ah yeah, you don't know her — had a relationship a few years back that she was pretty excited about. On a road trip with her man through the Virginia countryside, talk turned to the idea of buying a dog together. My friend jokingly suggested that they buy a cow instead. A few weeks later, he buys her a fish that he's named "Cow." Adorable right? 

A few weeks after that, seemingly out of the blue, he breaks up with her. My friend is devastated but retains custody of Cow. Fresh off the break-up, she felt she couldn't give Cow the home he deserved and asked her parents to adopt Cow. Soon after, Cow tragically passed away. I suspect suicide, he had a lot of his own stuff going on. Knowing how special Cow was to my friend, her father couldn't bring himself to simply flush Cow into fish heaven. So he puts Cow in the freezer.

Eventually he does break the news to my friend but she just wasn't emotionally ready to deal with Cow's death. So she has her dad put Cow back in the freezer where he stays for the next two years.

Holy symbolism Batman.

In relationships, how often do we put the fish in the freezer? 

From dodgy conversations about a relationship status, to moving in together, to having kids, to problems in the bedroom, it's always easier to simply put the fish in the freezer. And we have a laundry list of reasons for why it's better to avoid the issue: we don't want to start a fight, we need more time, heck, maybe the problem will work itself out, like a bad haircut or the conflicts in Egypt.  

In theory, your respective fish could stay in the freezer forever. In fact, recent studies found that 7 out of 10 households have the remains of a departed goldfish in their freezers. But when said fish is addressed, we all suddenly turn into teenagers caught with a bag of weed, "I'm, uh, just holding that for a friend!"

Palm Pilot

I got a palm reading the other day. I could say it was on a total whim, or that I don't really believe in that stuff, or that no baby I've never tried it before but with right guy I might be open to it, but that wouldn't be true. 

So the palm reading was not, in fact, my first foray into the occultic realm. Between palm readings, tarot cards, and aura cleanings I've spend a handful of dollars hoping for a glimpse into what my romantic future might hold. And while my little brother reminds me that this money could be better spent on pretty much anything besides crack, my most recent palm reader had an insight for me that I'd never heard before: she told me I'd already met my soulmate.

There was no need to flip through my mental Rolodex of exes, because everyone has "the one that got away." Not got away due to some sort of epic relationship fall out, or his arraignment hearing, or because he finally found the key to your sex dungeon, but got away because something, something small and nameless, in the relationship didn't quite work out.

Ladies and gentleman I'd like to present my potential lost soulmate:

        
Yeah, I know, you can't tell me anything I haven't already told myself each time I renew my Match subscription. 

Okay, Universe, I get it. He is very handsome. 

We were college sweethearts. He never hogged the covers and let me dance on his toes. He taught me how to how to change a timing belt and I encouraged him to run his first 5K. I made him laugh and he fielded my crazy like Joe DiMaggio. 

But it didn't work out. Looking back there wasn't anything we faced that was so insurmountable that it couldn't have been overcome on our path to soulmatedom.

So maybe he isn't my lost soulmate. Maybe you don't just lose a soulmate like a misplaced sweatshirt that turns up in a Goodwill lost and found years later. Maybe it's sharing our lives that's more important than our souls. After all, if Merriam-Webster doesn't recognize soulmates, I maintain there's no reason for the rest of us to. Except when dealing with angry ex-sex. Obviously.
 

Holidays and the City

I love love love the holiday season. The cooling temperatures, the spirit of giving, being fireman carried out of an open bar office holiday party. It's like DC transforms from November to December. The pace slows, priorities change, even the homeless get festive with their street harassment. "Happy Holidays girl, you look so good I wanna cut you like a Christmas ham."

To honor this special time of year, I present an ode to the Holidays in DC:

When I left my hometown for the law firms in DC,

"Good luck" they all sneered, "We know the tomfoolery you'll see."

All scoundrels and villains and rascals and crocks, 

Who'd shut down an orphanage and cheat the account books.

All tricksters and jokers, whose insides are rotten,

And all of their niceness has been long been forgotten.

But I moved nonetheless, in spite of their jeers,

And my first holiday season, I swallowed my fears.

Would a loving Holiday season be something I'd lose?

To these greedy, back-stabbing, carousing yahoos?

But the city was....nice. A place for Holidays to thrive,

When I'd expected its egos to crush them alive.

People were generous and that's just the start,

It was a city of merit, giving, and heart.

So the season in DC is a time of great cheer,

Happy Holidays to all and a Joyful New Year.