Sometimes I think I miss you. On a random day, when I have nothing but my new life on my mind and this new place I live in, you suddenly pop up. As I decide to grab a $4 bottle of Trader Joe's wine for a night-in, I'm reminded of trying to find a Kosher Trader Joe's wine for that seder I went to for work. Remember the woman who spent a half hour explaining to us the exact type of wine we needed to bring? She even found a moscato that was Kosher. We giggled in the car about how we had no idea how many different types of wine there were, but thank God for random Trader Joe's employees who can teach us the things our parents never did.
For a moment, I miss you. Then I remember what it was actually like. I remember missing someone else in that moment in which I was in the grocery store with you. And perhaps, when I was in the grocery store with them, I missed the one before.
I don't know. What I've come to realize, though, is that I always missed you-- even when I was with you in that wine aisle years into loving you. I missed the person I believed you to be when we shared vodka sodas at the bar where we first met in Williamsburg. You were never him. You were always someone else to me. You were always the person I heard about from our friends of friends. The allusive bachelor that I just had to meet. The person that I had heard about, but never really knew.
Maybe that's when you know it's the right one. You stop missing them. You're just there, in that moment with them, and they are everything that you thought they would be....and more.
I would call you now, if only it would cure my craving of you. But I know the moment I hear your voice on the other end of the line, I'll still miss you. I'll still miss what I wanted us to be, but what we never were. I'll still miss you, him, the person that I had heard about from a friend of a friend...the person you never were.
It was all a miss. And for that I grieve.