Lonesome Boo: Life Without T, Part One

As you all probably already know, because I cannot seem to stop myself from talking about the bittersweetness of it all, T has left the country for three whole weeks. And while I’m absolutely thrilled for her, and absolutely positive that it is going to be one of the greatest adventures of her entire life, I also have this theory that if T and I go for more than a week without seeing each other, then shith shall hitteth the fan in some facet of my life (based entirely on my own paranoia and on the science of, you know, statistical probability or whatever).  Fortunately, I have never before had to put this theory to the test – T and I are diligent about our weekly bromantic catch-ups where we rail against why people are like that and eat way too much Thai Food than the average human body could possible handle (obviously, T and I are pros). Unfortunately, I’ll be getting that chance now. Which is why I find myself making this face more and more often:

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Coping clearly is not one of my strong suits.

There are some boos out there who deal with their bestie’s absence in, you know, normal ways: they send long e-mails full of bullet-pointed details about all the things that have gone down in the past 48 hours, reassure themselves that soon enough, there will be a tearful and joyous reunion over burgers, and take comfort in the fact that when said estranged bestie returns, there will probably be presents (right, T? :D). And while half of me totally plans on doing all these things and is generally being a total champ about it all, there is another, weirder half of me that is now doing such things as:

Taking pictures of everything because everything is important and T needs to see it.

Suddenly, there is no mildly amusing, vaguely relevant object that does not remind me of her. Oh, look, a card about best friends: SHE NEEDS TO SEE THIS, IT IS PERFECT. What the fuck, it’s a coin purse in the shape of a hot-dog: T LOVES HOT-DOGS BECAUSE THEY ARE THE CORN DOG’S COUSIN. A Soviet cookbook: HOW HAVE I NOT ALREADY BOUGHT THIS FOR HER?!

Today, for example, I went a little overboard while browsing through the card spinners at work, and found a few ABSOLUTELY PERFECT gems:

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But then things took a dark turn and suddenly I found myself laughing at these next set of cards by myself and thought immediately about how that wouldn’t happen if T was around. Fueled by my sudden anger at having to laugh maniacally alone at not-so-subtle sexual innuendos, I furiously snapped pictures of them as well:

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I also now notice absence everywhere and it turns me into a really bad, really emo, existential poet.

Chairs with no one in them are the saddest things in the fucking world. Also, bags of chips down to the last crumbs. Even, yes, empty boxes. BECAUSE WHERE HAVE ALL THE THINGS GONE?! WHY?! WHY MUST THE WORLD BE SO CRUEL AND SO UNRELENTING IN ITS QUEST TO REMOVE US ALL FROM, YOU KNOW, STUFF?!

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This box is empty. Like my soul. (That was deep.)

And so, in an attempt to maintain my pride and dignity, I have taken to hiding my grief-stricken face behind a Viking helmet that would make the most bad-assest of Viking warlords proud.

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Because vikings don’t get lonely, yo. What, I’m not crying. (And I’m definitely NOT doing my own rendition of this song as I sit here in my pajamas, wailing tunelessly and throwing my arms up in the air in complete and utter resignation to my inevitable demise, because the end of the world is near, and my boo is not! Yeah. No. I’m not doing that. Because, scoff, whatever, you know? Shut up!)

Wish me luck, guys.

Signed,

Lonesome Jayne (who is clearly falling off the deep end, just a little bit)

 

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