"...everything good is eventually gone."

We didn't mean to do it. Two years knowing each other without the slightest hint of anything more than friendship, but there we were, naked on the office floor having the best sex of our lives. Well, at least my life. We sort of just fell in to it, this love thing. Like the gallon of ice cream that sits in the freezer unopened. You know it's there and no one is eating it. You look at it long enough and soon come to realize how badly you want it, and before you know it, you've eaten the whole gallon and are left guilt ridden and just as empty as that carton. You're left this way because everything good is eventually gone.

It’s now three years later and she is gone, never to love me again. Even though she's gone, I still hate calling her my ex. It's that situation where the person you love can't stand to be anywhere near you, but being a glutton for punishment, you are still hopelessly in love. You continue to hold the fruitless hope that someday things will be what they were. I’ll save you the time; trust me, they won't. But to understand how we got to this point, you have to know where we were, so I'll start with that whole sex in the office thing.

Ok, so I know it sounds totally like a cheesy porn with the bow-chica-bow-wow music playing and the voluptuous secretary on her knees behind the desk of her well hung boss, but seriously, erase any idea of that from your mind. We were two, twenty something women. I know that's not helping the porn image, but we were quite normal; unlike the fake breasted, dildo wielding, slim and trim women you are envisioning right now. We didn't mean for it to take place in our offices; it just so happened that it did. And really, they were not our offices; we were just lowly graduate assistants at the local university with access to the first private place we encountered. After that first encounter, we were stuck. We ended relationships that we were in, and in true lesbian fashion, proceeded to pour the foundation of our new found lives together.

Shortly after it all began, school ended, and I had completed my degree. Now, we were presented with a quandary. I had been planning to leave, but here we were, in the formative months of a fledgling bond, and I had no desire to leave without this new found love. So naturally, I stayed. I didn't mention it before, but I hated the town we were in. I could not wait to pack up and leave that place far behind, but I was willing, and did, put it all aside and stayed...for her. So here we were, fresh and with a new start. She moved in to my place and I found a job which I eventually grew to hate, but it paid the bills and we were able to manage while she worked to complete her doctorate degree. We stayed in this pattern for two years. For me it was wake, work, rinse, repeat; and for her it was the constant stress of teaching, learning, writing, and dealing with the bureaucracy of a college department on the brink of disaster. Life was by no means simple, but we fell in to a pattern, which eventually gave way to a rut.

At the end of those two years, life was good, we were still in love, and though we lived in the Deep South, we wanted to have a wedding. So the plans began. On top of the daily monotonous existence, we now added the stress of finding a location, ordering decorations, getting flowers, a dress, a suit, a cake, and on and on and on. If any one has ever put together a wedding, which most of the population has, you know how much it can suck. And of course, being complete self sufficient lesbians, we had to do it all on our own. We ordered and made everything from scratch except our clothing. Looking back, I do not know how we ever managed to get it all together. But the day finally came and it was perfect. Yes, I am the total lame ass who says that my wedding day was the best day of my life, but if you could have seen it, you would know. Imagine being on a mountain top, a chill in the air, on a patio overlooking the mountains. The sun is setting in the background over a forest of trees with leaves of yellow, red and orange. When it was all over, we knew that the day could not have been more perfect. Little did I know she saw it as too perfect. A life together doomed from the start.

From there, we went on our honeymoon, and being staunch lesbian advocates, we had to go to Canada and make our marriage legal. So that is what we did, in a beautiful snow covered park, overlooking snow capped mountains. I still have the marriage license. We were two women saying "fuck you, this is our life." For me it was a commitment, it was saying this is forever. But now, now I can tell you the legal declarations for divorce in the province of British Columbia. I can also tell you that the most beautiful sight I've seen is now tainted with shame and embarrassment.

Now don’t get me wrong, I can by no means say that things went from being perfect to falling face first in the gutter overnight. Even I am not jaded enough to believe that, but we did succumb to our ultimate demise rather quickly. After the picture perfect weddings, we returned to our ill-fated lives to live out the next six months not so happily wedded. We returned to our life on standby to be hit with the brunt of things put off. Individually, we each were consumed in our daily tasks. She was finishing a dissertation and I was lying low, trying to keep below the radar until her work was done. We knew the time had come to leave our home, so time that was not spent working or writing was spent looking and applying for a new life in a new place. We decided on two major cities and worked frantically to find a place to settle. All the while, she was slowly moving on and making plans without me.

Time passed and we each found jobs in a new city. We both traveled to interviews and to see friends and to finalize the aspects of the upcoming days. I packed boxes and marked where they needed to go, either with us or to her parent's house. That's when the bomb dropped. Upon return from a job hunt, I was informed that our life together was over. The fragile glue that bound us together slowly melted and seeped through the cracks without me knowing. Apparently, she had known for quite some time that this life we had created, the commitment we had made, and the plans that were yet to be put in to action were not the life that she had wanted. In fact, the pain still ressonates when I think of her saying, "I never should have married you." A life I loved, and a woman I loved even more, gone in a heartbreaking matter of months. My heart shattered without a reason other than to hear her say that she did not like the person I turned out to be.

Through the tears and sadness, the anger and the rage, I repacked all those boxes. They were then remarked to either go with her or to go with me; there was no more us. I would go to a new place to start a new life...alone. I would pack up my car and drive away from the only home we would ever have together to find a new place for one. I would leave her standing on the porch, relieved to be rid of me, all the while I would cry until I reached my final destination. They say when you find that one person, the one you’ll love for the rest of your life, you’ll know. But they never said what to do if that person does not love you in return.

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