Relationships are strange creatures. They can run extremely hot. Then, in a blink of an eye, turn polar-cap cold. Who knows what dynamics factor into triggering such sea changes?
I once had a relationship that was molten in its intensity. We spent time together every day. We were inseparable. At work and at home.
In fact, I found the relationship to be all consuming. Then one day, for no apparent reason, I lost all interest.
My heart had turned frigid. My passion had ebbed first into embers and then swiftly into stone-cold ashes.
I was done with peanut butter.
And I haven’t been back.
No more peanut butter and egg sandwiches for breakfast.
No more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.
No more peanut butter and banana sandwiches for dinner.
No more celery stalks slathered in peanut butter for snacks.
No more chocolate peanut butter pie for dessert.
No more going berserk on chocolate peanut butter eggs on Easter.
No more mainlining peanut butter with a spoon straight from the jar, overdosing on the stuff until I needed a crowbar and the jaws of life to pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
Yep, one day I just went cold turkey. I guess I had reached my saturation point and just needed some space. Room to breathe without the scent of peanut butter curling up my nostrils.
It was a one-sided breakup. To this day I can hear peanut butter jars whispering my name as I walk down the supermarket aisle. But I never stop to stare. I just walk on by.
Sometimes there isn’t enough glue to patch together the pieces of a fractured relationship.
I guess down deep I may be afraid that the allure of an old flame might catch a spark and usher me back into the inferno.