Wednesday, October 14, 2009

What to say, what to say

I haven't seen you in at least 7 years. I was underage at that bar and drinking brandy over some silly joke to impress a boy that didn't know I existed. You were there, quite a bit older than me... at least six years older. I remember sitting in a flimsy resin lawn chair on the bar's patio next to you and talking awkwardly about this and that. I can't even remember the conversation. You were cute with a prominent nose and handsome features, but short - yes, I seem to remember that you were 5'2 or 5'3 or so. That didn't bother me, mind you. You asked me if I wanted to hang out for a little while, and I drove off with you, leaving my car in the gravel parking lot across the street. We pulled up at your parent's house, and you showed me in through the kitchen, past the living room down to the basement. I recall some photos on the fridge and family photos in the living room that assured me you were part of a normal family just like mine. Once in the basement, the advances were quick and decisive. We were kissing in moments and touching and caressing. It was already well past 4 a.m. and we crawled up to your bedroom, careful not to wake your parents. What happened there I can't say I'm exactly proud of. We didn't make love, but we crossed at least one line I would have preferred to have held steadfast on. Soon it was dawn and we were sneaking out to the car so you could drive me back to mine. Later that morning I would rear end another car on my way to work, forever burning this moment into my memory. I can still remember your plaid basement couch, the brown blanket on your bed, and other things I'd rather I'd forgotten.

So now I'm sitting here and we're new social media friends. We're also both grown up, married and far past any of the silliness of that evening. Since we literally never saw one another before or after that, however, I find myself at a complete loss for words...

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