Triathlete Disqualified Mid-Race

Yeah...that pretty much says it all. You know how sometimes you find yourself in an utterly untenable situation with someone you deeply care about? You find yourself, almost in slow-motion, saying words you never wanted to say, to someone who once reflected the world back at you in the most beautiful way? Inexplicably, you are letting go of someone you hold dear, because you have to...and the truth is, it's not inexplicable--it's actually completely, painfully, utterly, clear. You cannot stay in this relationship, because it is slowly turning you into someone you don't want to be (in my case, the kind of girl whose week/month is shot to hell because she's been worrying/wondering/waiting on the Triathlete.)


And so, you pull the trigger; you move to end things. You veer perilously between overwhelming sadness and cool composure. You don't do it because you want to, you do it because you have to. Because you know, somewhere deep down, letting him go makes room for something bigger, more beautiful. Because you don't want to be That Girl, the one who sits, and waits, and hopes, slowly, day-by-day, morphing into a small, flat doormat. Sound familiar? Welcome to my week: Project Doormat Avoidance, where the contestant works furiously through an emotional obstacle course, in an attempt to avoid being turned into a total fucking doormat. I won, but barely.

It had been a slow, steady decline, this careening path to the end of things: a litany of unreturned calls, lonely nights, and surprise disappearances (my favorite kind!) Although it broke my heart, I was left with no choice other than to pull the plug on my fledgling relationship with the Triathlete. And so I did.

We had this final conversation via phone call, with me fielding the emotional minefield from the parking lot of a Ralph's in the valley. I then went inside, picked up a head of cauliflower on special, a Twix bar, two Lean Cuisine and a phone card for a friend. En route to my apartment, I ate the Twix. I then heated up a Lean Cuisine for dinner. I figured if I was going to do misery, I would go all the way. I think there are few things more depressing in life than Lean Cuisine. But sometimes it's hard to muster up the energy for more than that (this is how you know I was truly depressed.) To be fair, I tossed the cauliflower florets with some olive oil and salt, and roasted them for 40 minutes at 400 degrees until they were browned and crispy. I ate them along with my Lean Cuisine. Some florets were perfectly caramelized and crunchy; some were slightly charred, but I didn't really care. The charred florets tasted a little like how I felt on the inside--burnt, slightly bitter, a tad...fried.

So that's my story. I disqualified the Triathlete mid-race, before we really even got a chance to see what he could do. But I have a rule: when someone makes you more sad than happy, it's time to cut and run. Though both my story and my dinner were depressing, I know there are better times ahead. It won't be Lean Cuisine forever...and I know my next adventure is in store, I can feel it.