Today is Damon’s birthday. Huzzah! We’ll go to his favorite Japanese restaurant on Friday night, but today to mark the occasion and headed to the Golden Corral for dinner. His love for the GC is kind of a joke and kind of not. It isn’t as though he’s under the illusion that the food is particularly good. But the huge selection and never-ending stack of plates can be hypnotic. And the mashed potatoes are definitely tasty.

I spent some time shopping online two weeks ago for a gift. One of the ways that life is nicer in Knoxville is that Damon was able to join a really nice gym. So his birthday request was for exercise clothing. As I was poking around I found a sale on some high-quality stuff that also looked hip-ish. It was all from the same manufacturer, one that displays a script logo prominently on the thigh. Couldn’t do it. It was the oddest thing.

When I was in high school I had an abusive boyfriend. It was ages ago and I am well and truly over it. It was, in some ways, a crash course in the relationship lessons I watched my peers learn all through their 20s (and some, heaven help them, into their 30s). So while I wouldn’t wish the chaos on me or anyone else, I did walk out of it with a strong sense of self, what I was willing to tolerate, and what I felt prepared to demand. My point being: I’ve been fine with the whole story for, literally, decades. And yet, something I hadn’t thought about probably since those high school days: He always wore those track pants. I saw that logo all the time. My reaction to it more than 20 years later was visceral, and I knew right away that I couldn’t tolerate seeing it on Damon. I guess it’s like a leftover from an injury, a trick knee or a scar. The original hurt is healed, but there’s always going to be residual evidence that it was there.


2 responses to this post.

  1. Yes. Exactly.


  2. Yes. Exactly.


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