the whitewash

Looking back at our trip to the Big Island, I fondly remember the soft blue water pushed up against the sharpness of the sun in the early morning. Long walks on private beaches, stumbling in and out of bars that were just shacks, really, drinking funny umbrella drinks that I’d normally eschew for a beer; the memories I have of that time and that place are beautiful.

Throughout every thread of every memory, I remember him, with some sadness now, and how sweet he was when I got sick on the last day. How much fun we had eating the strange, exotic fish and how much we laughed at the old man who ran the B&B. How my hand felt pushed up against the tree and the exact rose-blue blushing pink inside the purple flower above me.

And yet…and yet. If I think about it all a little more, I remember something else, too.

I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain, that we fought our way up every mountain, snapped at each other at the rim of the volcano and went off in a dither at the hotel buffet. That at one point, lost in a rainforest and listening to a litany of complaints about how everything was MY fault, I very seriously considered leaving him to fend for himself.

I have to wonder, given these competing memories, if over time we consciously- or unconsciously- decide to whitewash our past relationships.

Do we idealize our ex-loves?

I’ve been on the other end of this, too. My friends think I never go out with anyone new- I just continue to recycle my old boyfriends. Which strictly speaking, isn’t true. But they do seem to pop back up a lot. One of them called me last year.

I kept telling him on the phone, “No, I won’t have lunch with you.”

“Why?”

“Well, because what you always seem to forget is that you don’t like me very much.”

It sounds funny, but I think it’s true. Over time, as he saw his friends and family settle down and begin to raise their families, he realized that he wanted that, too. And as he flips through the rolodex, I’m sure I look pretty good…on paper. The word most people use to describe me is sweet. And about the only thing I ever try to do really well is to be honest. Those are qualities that, on paper, are just what someone might want for their future.

But the reality is that nothing ever looks as good as it does in the box. I’m sure that I have many moments that aren’t so sweet. I’ve also been told by more than one person that I’m quirky. ADD. And always, always writing- on the backs of paper bags, receipts, even my hand. These “quirks” can make trying to foster a relationship difficult. There isn’t a lot of time left to just be.

I want to move forward, without looking behind me. To acknowledge my missteps, laugh at my foibles and stand ready for whatever comes next. I don’t know what could be worse than repeating my past mistakes.

Unless it’s not getting the opportunity to repeat them again.