Artifacts and Presidents' Day

A month ago my Best Girlfriend Ever visited from a few states away. She wanted some ice cream late at night. I rummaged through my freezer. All I found was a year-old ice cream sandwich purchased by The Ex during a beer-run. "You need to throw that away," she told me. "It's sick to keep it."

She was right. BGE is wise. But I couldn't. And truthfully, I still haven't. Just like I've kept the tie he lent to me when I was working banquets and needed one. Not because I'm not over him--quite the opposite--but because I am sentimental and nostalgic. Because though I no longer miss him or wish it had been different, I like to remember the good times. Obviously the good times did not equal a relationship that would last but it was fun while it lasted. I know it's important to move on, I don't doubt that for a second. But I can't throw away that damn ice cream because I can picture the day he bought it like it was yesterday. It's so much less about him and so much about the happy memories, the idea that that sort of happiness is possible.

Anyhow, tonight I drank my remaining stash of beer (3 in total, since I'd drunk the other half of that 6-pack a few days ago) and was looking in my fridge for more. In the back, lo-and-behold, was a Heineken. So old and purchased so long ago that I can remember the date it was bought. Well over two years ago, way back when me and the Ex were just friends. It's skunky and undrinkable for sure, but I pulled it out and all the thoughts came rushing back. We played Nintendo games all night and he tickled me to the ground. He went for a beer run and bought this crap. And as much as I want nothing to do with him now, I can't throw out his goddamn ice cream sandwich.

I opened the beer. It smells okay but I'm probably too drunk to notice. It tastes okay but I don't drink Heineken enough to tell and it's too old to really be all right. If I get a stomach ache, it will serve me right.*

I have gotten past this point of sadness, but I am like a museum curator -- I like to perserve the past for what it was not what it will be. So on this Presidents' Day I would like to state for the record: The preservation of one's history is not always a memorial for what has occured, but is sometimes a reminder of what one should avoid. And learning from mistakes means we won't repeat them.

Let's hope that proves true, both in my dating life and in this nation's future.

*Just to be clear--because I realize I wasn't at first--I didn't drink the beer. I took a few sips to see if it was at all drinkable even though I knew it wasn't, then I poured it down the drain because, you know, it wasn't. But a few sips of an ancient beer is enough to give you a tummy ache, I'm sure.