On Familiarity

In life you tend to go back to the familiar.

The ex-boyfriend that you love/ed. The one who knows your body, who you hope knows your heart, the one who gets your jokes, and knows where you’re coming from.

The friends you grew up with. The ones who know your early secrets, share your early memories, the ones you can meet after twenty years and still find a way to keep the conversation going for a couple of hours.

The foods that remind you of happier times. Like thali cake, a sweet coconut filled concoction that my grandmother in India used to make each time I visited. Comfort food you indulge in when you aren’t quite sure where life is heading.

Yet familiarity breeds contempt.

Eventually you realize that you moved from being the ex-boyfriends sweetness, to his occasional booty call. That he does know your body, but these days its more of a chore rather than an exploration. That your heart and feelings are more of a burden to him, than an actual concern.

That after all the hours of joking around with old friends, you get to the awkward pause. The point where you’re all caught up with the past, and there is nothing to propel your friendship into the future.

And the food that still gives you that warm fuzzy feeling, now also gives you a jiggly layer on your otherwise washboard tummy ;)

I am tried of the past. Of living in it, of wishing for it, of hoping for it

So if anyone of you comes across my future, can you tell it to hurry up and get here already?

In the meantime I am relishing in the moment.