The Revisited Footnote

July 21, 2010

Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Boy pursues girl. Girl likes boy. They date, kiss, vibe, share. Boy and girl don’t work out. Boy leaves girl, girl loses friend, and vice versa. Boy and girl’s time together turns into a footnote in each other’s book. So what happens when that footnote is revisited and becomes a brand new story?

2008. Meg, Kristen, Lauren and you. Meg loved me, I didn’t love her. Kristen wanted me but not like I wanted her. Lauren—Lauren was an eventual waste of time energy and money. I still can’t believe I wasted 400 dollars for that stupid concert. Then there was you, the youngest and most inexperienced of the other 3.

You weren’t as pretty as the others, a little thick in the hips with a body that you hadn’t fully grown into yet. You were a republican, I a democrat. Yet we had other things in common that would move us past silly things like political affiliation. We loved music, Alicia Keys in particular. We played sports with sticks; you softball, I hockey. Most importantly we were two young kids experiencing the joys of being removed from the close guarding of our parents and letting ourselves move in a lightning fast pace of alcohol, partying and debauchery.

It started as a simple night at a large house party on campus. I was looking for my next conquest, you looking for a fun night with your girls. We met under odd circumstances. After I failed at an indecent romp with a promiscuous female I ran into you on the dance floor. A tapped you on the shoulder and asked to dance. You accepted, though the alcohol in your system may have persuaded you more than you would’ve liked. The dance lasted for the remaining two minutes and seventeen seconds of 50 Cent’s “Ayo Technology,” hardly the romantic tune that would go with a spontaneous encounter. Once it was over we exchanged numbers and saliva. Not a bad night if you ask me.

Our first date was an impromptu meeting. I was becoming weary of Meg that day and called you a week after our snippet of a meeting. On your end of the phone you sounded tense as you weren’t sure how to handle someone that seemed like a complete stranger. I offered a meeting involving a little ice cream in the spring sun, which you accepted. It seemed harmless, out in the open, nothing too big. Just simple.

Upon seeing you for the second time I thought to myself, “She looks better than I remembered, but still average.” You had on sweatpants from your high school with a matching sweatshirt, and some white flip flops, completely unflattering. Our conversation was timid at first, but soon gained steam when I found out how easy it was to make you laugh. Jokes about the silly people that we see on campus always make for interesting conversation. Before long we were at coldstone scarfing down Germanchokolatecake and banana flavored ice cream. I remember looking at your eyes, these big blue beautiful bulbs and becoming intoxicated with them. They matched your wonderful smile and laugh and made for an enjoyable afternoon together. I loved your personality and how open you were; you had a hold on me that I couldn’t describe. Granted I was dating 3 other girls but none were as mature as you, or as open.

It made me want you as much as the other girls in my life. However, things don’t always work out as planned. Turns out that you were still infatuated with your ex-boyfriend at the time and I was a tad too early for any type of relationship. So I went back to clingy Meg whose sex kept me with her, the far too emotional Kristen who begged for, and got my attention, and Lauren who was—just Lauren.

Even though we weren’t meant to be together I still maintained a relationship with you. Our conversations were few and far in between. You had and lost a boyfriend, I had my share of women. I campaigned for Barack Obama in the same neighborhoods that you campaigned for John McCain. Your friend died and I consoled you, my love life grew crazy and you gave me hope.

Then time passed. Randomly I saw you riding your bike looking all the same as you have. However I felt a change in you. You seemed different in spirit, I couldn’t put my finger on how you felt differently but I knew you did. On a whim I texted you just to check in. you were soon to be 21 and exciting time in anyone’s life, I know I experienced it 4 years prior. You wanted to get drinks with me to catch up on old times. Friday, March 5th. 6pm the local bar. Sounded simple enough, a few drinks with an old friend, laugh and crack some jokes then call up my boy Ray and hit the bar scene. To me it was just going to see the same girl I remember from that spring day at coldstone, short, chubby but full of personality. I even kept my book bag from school because I wasn’t expecting much from the evening.

Then you walked in. Holy crap was I wrong. The sight I saw that cold wintery night was far different that the one from years previous. Your brown hair hung down past your shoulders rather than tied up on top of your head. You were three inch heels with tight flared jeans and a red long sleeved t-shirt. One thing remained the same, those eyes and smile. You were a knockout and I was down for the count speechless. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you; I went from confidant to nervous in ten seconds. I was in your previous position, but the more things changed the more they stayed the same. Out conversations were so intriguing, we both became independents conceding that organized politics were foolish, you were comfortable in your big city surroundings and fell hard for them. We laughed, got serious and began to consume much too much alcohol. One bar turned into a bar crawl. One shot turned into to two then three then who knows.

With alcohol comes silliness, with silliness comes recklessness. We began to hold hands as we walked to your house to rehydrate. The hand holding turned into lip-locking. It seemed like forever that’s how long we kissed, stopping only to smile at each other then pull each other closer to kiss again. Drunkenness lead to our actions, but we felt clarity during our actions. Then it was over. The alcohol had taken its toll on you and you were done. We kissed, said good night and went our separate ways. All I thought about for the rest of the night was you. The bars were packed with gorgeous women ready to do anything in an instant, yet I ignored them. It was the same feeling I had after our first date two years earlier. Truthfully she was the one I wanted more than Meg, Kristen or Lauren, especially Lauren. She was far more mature than any of those other girls then, and was more beautiful than any girl I’ve met in the last 3 years.

I saw her again the next night for her birthday party. She was the star attraction and insisted on my appearance. When I parted the large crowd I saw her again, long dress, black heels, hair down, my second knockout. After an hour together I told her I had to leave to meet friends. Her reaction was a combination of sad and hurt that shocked me. It immediately reinforced what I had believed to be true, what happened last night was real. No amount of alcohol could change the true feelings that we felt for each other. I kissed her good-bye and told her I would talk to her later to which she reluctantly agreed. She feels the same as I do after 2 days, what do I do? Pursue? Maybe she enjoys being single? Maybe she doesn’t?

All I can do is play it by ear. We’re connected again. I now know the reason as to why I was so into her when she was still learning about herself. It’s so much more than boy meets girl. Boy met girl, boy lost girl, boy stayed close for a reason, boy and girl re-connect, girl feels the same that boy does. Now hopefully boy can get what he truly wants, because he knows girl feels the same.

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