Last fall, Post released the retro 1980’s boxes of Count Chocula, Boo Berry and Franken Berry cereals. I immediately recycled the memory of how the boxes looked, the joy I felt when I opened the bag and poured it into my cereal bowl and of course, that first mouth-watering bite.
A friend of mine bought me a box of Boo Berry after hearing me talk about it; it wasn’t the vintage box, but I got excited all the same.
I couldn’t wait for the next morning to tear into my fresh new box of Boo Berry, so I decided to have it as a snack before bed. It looked like Boo Berry, smelled like Boo Berry, but alas, it did not taste as wonderful as I remembered it being.
I was so disappointed.
Nothing ever is as we thought or felt when we were young. Even our taste buds are in a state of perpetual change.
The sentiment is the same as going out with an ex from your past.
I’ve often said to my friends that getting together with an ex after time apart is comparable to resurrecting Frankenstein’s monster – they are never the same as the wonderful, flowery memories you build up in your mind.
They are an ex for a reason and that season has passed.
Even though this has rung true for me on more than one occasion, I still somehow manage to give the benefit of the doubt and sometimes revisit going out with an ex; on an ultra rare occasion I have gone as far as a meaningless hook-up.
It seems I am a slow learner.
The kiss never has the same impact, the touch makes my skin crawl instead of igniting passion in my loins. I end up faking my way through the experience to speed it up and get the hell out the situation I so foolishly placed myself into.
My most recent experience with this was about six months ago when I hooked up with my most recent ex-boyfriend.
The feeling I experienced is comparable to what I’ve heard heroin and meth users call “chasing the dragon” – I was looking to feel that high I had experienced when I was with him intimately. I was chasing the connection dragon.
I’d rather feel a connection than just mere physical pleasure.
Sure, the sex with my ex was as good as I remembered it being, but the connection just wasn’t there. I wanted nothing more than to get him out of my bed and my apartment as fast as possible afterwards. It was very disheartening.
A few weeks later I made one last attempt at it with him – slow learner, remember? I left that tryst feeling nothing inside but emptiness. Emptiness is a lot worse than loneliness.
After that experience, I retreated back into myself. I found and reveled in the connection I found within. The revelation that dawned on me is that I’m not a girl who can just have meaningless romps anymore. I’m a woman and I require more.
I’ve changed so much just over the past few months; I am happy and grateful for the new and improved version of myself that is starting to surface. No more resurrecting Frankenstein’s monster. The past needs to stay there and from here on out it will.