This week's entry: "My Waltzing Days Are Over" by the Innocence Mission.
I think I got dumped to this song.
It was given to me on the 3rd in a series of mixes by a guy who'd previously given me songs like Matthew Sweet's "Winona" ("would you be my little movie star/would you be my long-lost girl?") and Stevie Wonder's "Knocks Me Off My Feet" ("there's something about your love/that makes me weak") I had, in turn, responded with Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" and The Magnetic Fields, "I'm Tongue-Tied." This went on for about two years until just after New Years in 2007, when he presented me with the 3rd CD, this time, minus the "love" next to his name.
There were two songs that said the dreaded words of every lover--"we can't keep doing this." Billy Bragg's "A Lover Sings" was a mournful lament to the sex we never had. The other, of course, was "My Waltzing Days are Over."
I am no fool, I have no romantic notions
In my head
at my age
I'm content to watch
If you haven't figured it out, he was a little bit older than me. I was his Manic Pixie Dream Girl. We drank black coffee and talked about Raymond Chandler novels and traded vintage paperbacks. He was the first person to tell me I was smart. To a 22-year old just out of a bad relationship, that was a hundred times better than even the most flowery "I love you."
And it didn't end quickly either. It ended slowly as both of us descended into our our age-respective misery. I didn't get into grad school. He didn't get tenure (which my mother said was my fault). We were both stuck in this miserable dying town and couldn't unite in our misery--so it became rubber bullets we shot off each other, bouncing back off the kevlar coldness we'd girded ourselves with.