I'm a relationship klutz.
You know that friend who seems pretty normal, but then you start to notice that he's always breaking glasses and plates and lamps and stuff? I'm like that with relationships.
Things will be going along great, like you're skating in the zone on solid ice - everything is so easy - and then suddenly, right out of nowhere - crash! Uh, oh. You just said something really dumb and hurt her feelings, or created some awkwardness. You just broke one of her cherished knick knacks.
You can tell she's kind of mad, sweeping up the mess, slightly glowering, trying not to say anything too destructive. She won't really look you in the eye. "Just go for now, okay?" Oops. Okay.
Then inevitably that day comes when all your accumulated mishaps sum into one final, irrevocable breakage. The camel's back collapses. In a single eerie moment you realize with that hollow, sinking feeling of alienated recognition that you have now crossed over the line and become "Other." This time it was her favorite imported Japanese vase -- and not only that, but it crashed into the brand new widescreen plasma TV. Final straw. Now the dustpan sits empty, and there is no broom anywhere in sight to sweep.
You walk off into the night, slightly dazed, yet somehow slightly more present also -- feeling the crisp fall air, hearing the silence and the faint and familiar night sounds and wind -- and then ironically, freed once more into your detached singularity, you feel your feet meet the ground squarely and stealthily as they glide you forward with perfect grace, precision and unity.
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