There are things I've learned about myself since we've last spoken, internets. One very important thing is that I am no longer the girl who can drink as much as she wants, whatever she wants, without hangover consequence. I used to laugh in the faces of my friends, who after a long night out, would whine the next morning about headaches and nausea. It was hilarious to me, really, because I did not know any better. I know. Now, I am aware, and I am sorry. I awoke last Sunday to the acute awareness that my stomach wanted out of my body. Every time I attempted to move toward an upright position, it was a war between my tummy and my head, because my head thought it was a perfectly good idea to let my brain escape through every orifice of my skull, since it was pounding so hard to get out. Apparently, it is not a good idea to drink several martinis interspersed with random shots. Hah!

I have also learned, or was rather reminded, that I am the girl who got away. Always. It is the downside of being such good friends with exes. But even the exes I haven't stayed close with over the years eventually do the same thing. They wait until I am at a perfectly content place in my life, and they unleash the "what if's". I am completely ridiculously in love, you see, so now is the perfect time for such a phone call. I've actually been somehow expecting it in a way. It never fails.

Last night, I was on the phone with my man. It was pretty late for him, because he tends to wake up at a frighteningly early hour, but there we were, just chatting on the phone, debating the definition of murder, of all things. My call waiting beeped, and on the other line was J, a (very ex) ex, and a very good friend. J was my high school sweetheart. He was my best friend and the bad boy in school. As likely to drop out and pump gas for the rest of his life, while debating the merits of Tolstoy and Shakespeare with whatever customer would listen, as he was to find a place in white collar society and become the very model of yuppy. He teetered on rebel and brilliance, and it's probably why he was so fascinating. And he was in a band. Seriously, who could resist?

J and I closed the chapter on love many years ago. We slowly built back a really strong friendship. His family was my second family. His dad died not too long ago, and I spent some time with his mom, who is sweet and strong, and frankly, a badass. J has grown into a man I am proud of and adore. He is married, with a daughter, and though his wife resisted our relationship at first, we've become close. I've babysat their daughter and have played many hours of poker at their house. She has thanked me for being a good friend to him, because she knows that he is the man he is, partially because of me. We have mutual respect.

When J called late last night, he told me that he was calling from overseas. When I told him I was on the phone with my man, whom he has met, he insisted it was nothing important, and that we would talk soon. He did mention just having woken from a dream and feeling the need to call me, but assured me he would disclose all later. It just made me laugh, because it was so random.

When I got off the phone a little while later, I had a text message from J. He couldn't go back to sleep and it was 6am where he was. I called him back, and was not at all prepared for the conversation that followed. He was in a country he was unfamiliar with and uncomfortable in, for work. He had a dream of us, together, with his family, and woke up feeling happy and content. It was nostalgic and strange. It was also probably completely inappropriate on his part, because his wife would be none too happy to know about the dream, much less his need to call me and chat about it in the wee hours from another continent.

This is something that always happens with me, and I can't figure out why. Every boy and man from my past feels the need to call me at some point, long after it makes any difference, to tell me that I was the one. What is the appropriate response to that kind of statement? "Thanks"? "Too bad you didn't figure that out way back when"? I don't know. I don't think it's likely to change our friendship. I'm writing it off to homesickness and jet lagged delirium.


Uncle Bracelet said...

This post totally reminded me that I'm late for some of my 6am calls to past girlfriends.

Melanie must know that I thought she was the one. The one who I'm glad I let get away. Seriously, the girl would have ruined me.

And Nicole. Nicole needs to know that she was the one. The one who helped create a motto I carry to this day, which is:

If your relationship is comparable in any way, shape, or form to a relationship you see on the Jerry Springer Show you must immediately stop seeing that person.

(And also punch yourself in the face)

elizabeth said...

how about if i just call you at all hours to remind you that you are the one. that's a better plan.

mike said...

awww the love is just BOOMING out of your comments section!! *GAG*