Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Old Boyfriends
I first knew I was in love with him, riding in his white Dodge from San Antonio to Austin. Mothers day, 1997. Tom Waits’ “Small Change” on the tape player. Windows rolled down due to a busted air conditioner. I had on navy blue, calf length pencil skirt and a white button down shirt. He had on those black pants I always told him he looked nice in.
I have loved him every single day of my life since then. One marriage, one divorce, several moves, far too many nights of drinking way too much, 4 day jobs, countless failed relationships (for both of us), and 7 pairs of black Chuck Taylors' later, he is still there. He still hugs me hard, holding 6 ½ seconds longer than anyone else does. He still smiles when he says “Love you” when we part. He still kisses me firmly on the lips. He still sings those songs I’ve come to know like family. But, knowing you love someone and knowing you should be in a romantic relationship with someone don’t always go hand in hand, after all.
And it is like this every time I am around him. Our first hellos after a long absence is always akward.
“How are you”
“Doing well. You look good”
“So do you”
. .
“I’m gonna go get a beer”
And like I’ve grown to expect, we realize we are shy for no reason. Tonight, like every other night, is not going to be the night where we ask each other what went wrong. It is not the night to explain emotions and ideas because they never needed explaining in the first place. Tonight, like every other night is just a joy to have the other one around. Funny how, even after 8 years, we forget that every time.
He still drives that Dodge and still looks good in those pants
I first knew I was in love with him, riding in his white Dodge from San Antonio to Austin. Mothers day, 1997. Tom Waits’ “Small Change” on the tape player. Windows rolled down due to a busted air conditioner. I had on navy blue, calf length pencil skirt and a white button down shirt. He had on those black pants I always told him he looked nice in.
I have loved him every single day of my life since then. One marriage, one divorce, several moves, far too many nights of drinking way too much, 4 day jobs, countless failed relationships (for both of us), and 7 pairs of black Chuck Taylors' later, he is still there. He still hugs me hard, holding 6 ½ seconds longer than anyone else does. He still smiles when he says “Love you” when we part. He still kisses me firmly on the lips. He still sings those songs I’ve come to know like family. But, knowing you love someone and knowing you should be in a romantic relationship with someone don’t always go hand in hand, after all.
And it is like this every time I am around him. Our first hellos after a long absence is always akward.
“How are you”
“Doing well. You look good”
“So do you”
. .
“I’m gonna go get a beer”
And like I’ve grown to expect, we realize we are shy for no reason. Tonight, like every other night, is not going to be the night where we ask each other what went wrong. It is not the night to explain emotions and ideas because they never needed explaining in the first place. Tonight, like every other night is just a joy to have the other one around. Funny how, even after 8 years, we forget that every time.
He still drives that Dodge and still looks good in those pants
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