boy, the metaphors just keep coming

Actually, I remembered today that the mirror had been replaced once before, about seven years ago.

Early on in our relationship, because I have "borderline traits," I followed Stupid Daddy (as he henceforth shall be called, in an effort to protect his identity and not jeopardize his career, because it's quite likely, don't you think?, that this blog will hit the big time) from Cambridge to Vermont. Because everything he owned fit into a backpack and was ugly anyway, I brought all my stuff along with me, including this mirror I had purchased from Crate and Barrel in my single days a few years back.

At some point during our time in Vermont, the mirror cracked. But you could still see into it enough to make yourself presentable by Vermont standards, and in that state doing pretty much anything besides skiing requires a day's drive, so we left it the way it was.

Then Stupid Daddy, at the time just Idiot Boyfriend, and I went through a rough spell. And by rough spell I mean that one fine day in May he dumped my ass because he had found an even harder-core borderline lady than I to bed and argue with. If my life were a bad novel, I might have suspected something was amiss because of the cracked mirror and all. But I didn't see it coming.

I packed up my things and moved out (and really, it was no big deal, I wasn't at all devastated, I didn't lose ten pounds from grief or get three hours of sleep a night if I was lucky for the next four weeks or anything like that), but not before Idiot Boyfriend had a chance to ask me if I wouldn't mind parting with some of my dishes since my departure would leave him with nothing.

I said, Screw you! because I'm tough like that. But I did leave behind the mirror. Take that, Idiot Boyfriend! It cut him deep.

Over the course of the summer, I got hints every so often that he was having regrets about his decision. These came mainly in the form of newsy and totally unwelcome emails about his dogs. But also, one day, a mutual friend brought the mirror over to my apartment, with a brand new piece of glass, which Idiot Boyfriend had taken the time to replace but obviously not wanted to bring to me himself.

We patched things up by early fall. It certainly took more than the mirror, but it wasn't that hard to win me over. We're good together.