There were two self-imposed rules for this blog when it began: 1.) only write what makes you laugh and 2.) never write about people you're in a relationship with. And so far I've been able to keep both. But with my move back to New York so close I can taste it, I'm getting antsy. Why is time apart and distance so telling? Every day for the last two months I wake up, look at my hands, and need you to hold them. I want you to smile at me and giggle when I speak too quickly and you don't understand. I want you to squeeze me into your busy schedule, simply because you know I can't have anyone else. I will not be silent any longer. Betty at Top-A-Nail on 14th and 1st, I am in love with you. I left you, and that was a mistake because no one has ever taken care of me the way you do. I knew I loved you from the moment I walked in the door. It was a busy weekday. I was new to New York, and you could smell my trepidation from a mile away. Do girls in NYC wear feminine pastels or bold primaries? Do I get a shellac manicure AND pedicure? Do I need to get my brows waxed too? "No," you say to me in calming hushed tones, "You have good, full brow. Don't touch it."
Why did I doubt these feelings? Even after that first encounter, sometimes, I would go to Nina instead of you. BUT TO BE FAIR, often you were...busy. I didn't know what kind of gal you were. My emotions are fragile. Was I really as special as I felt? Did I dream our entire connection? But then, one busy Saturday morning, you fit me in. Didn't think I caught it? Yeah, I saw. I saw you move some scheduled appointments around to accommodate my hasty polish change. And then I had the audacity to pay you in Sacagawea golden dollar coins, like an asshole, and you didn't even bat an eye.
Betty, I'm scared. I'm scared that you might be mad at me. I left abruptly, I know. And I've seen some...other people here in DC. But I didn't even learn that girl's NAME at Golden Nails. She meant nothing to me. I just couldn't hold out any longer, I needed that muted champagne mani for a social engagement. Do you understand? I didn't even enjoy it and I haven't seen her since. I swear. Check my phone. Read my disappointed Yelp review.
It's been 2 1/2 years and you are the most consistent relationship I've ever had. You like me for me. You know I'm not going to return those flip flops after my pedicures, and yet, you let me take them home as false promise after false promise pour from my lying mouth. Often times you let me have that quick-dry top coat for free. And, sometimes, when you cradle my palm as you file each nail into a perfect square cut shape, I know we are actually holding hands.
Take me back. You can do no wrong. I will write you 365 letters. I will write you every day for a year, and read each letter to you, while my boom box blasts whatever shit Peter Gabriel song you need to hear! I will make space for you on my raft! You had me at "complimentary paraffin wax." For, till that moment, I never knew myself.