It’s been awhile since I have mentioned Sparks, though I have to admit it was not for lack of thought on my part. I think about him more than I care to admit, especially late at night after one too many drinks when thoughts tend to turn into drunk texts. Even intoxicated, our banter is pretty sizzling and by the end of the conversation, I will inevitably bring up the idea of us getting together. To which he will check his schedule and turn me down.
And I will feel silly, but brush it off until the next morning when I think “Did I really do that? Again? He has to think I’m psycho, clueless and pitiful.”
To use an extended fire metaphor (you know I love those), I likened the process to me attempting to poke the coals and get the embers to relight, while he was the gust of wind that kept snuffing them out.
After this happened again Thursday evening, I decided Friday morning the fire needed to go out. The sparks needed to be snuffed. And so I sent him a note admitting I knew I was crazy to still hold onto what happened seven months ago and letting him know how foolish I feel for the texts, calls and propositions. I apologized and tried to cover everything up, like a skilled outdoorswoman leaves no trace after putting out a campfire.
To say his response was not what I expected is an understatement.
I’m going to keep the details to myself (well and to two of my BFFs who I immediately shared his email with), but suffice to say, I’m happy with it. I mean, we’re not together and we’re likely not getting together any time soon, but there was apparently no need for me to feel foolish or silly or pitiful and for the first time since it all started, we are clearly on the same page.
In short, the embers have been relit.
As far as Sparks and I are concerned, there is an Eternal Flame.
And because I know it’s been in your head since you read the title:
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