Out of the Woodwork
In the event of a nuclear war, two living things would survive: cockroaches and my old lovers. Both would roam the abandoned streets, pillaging what little remains of civilization they encountered. Fortunately, I've never had cockroaches, but the plague of former flames I'm cursed with more than compensates for that. No amount of Raid incapacitates them. They refuse to die complacently in the roach motels in which they inevitably live. Just when I think I'm finally rid of them, one crawls out from underneath my Mr. Coffee or pops out of a drawer when I reach for a spoon. Oh foul and cursed thing! What demon from the depths of hell created thee?
Every now and then, an old lover will reappear in my life. Bump into someone who saw you naked at CVS? Oh I did that. Receive a desperate booty call at 4 am on a Tuesday? You betcha. Even made a few of those calls myself. Fortunately, most of these run-ins have occured when I've been in a good position. Skinnier, happier, and less awkward then I previously was. It usually goes something like this:
Former Lover: "Wow, you look great! How have you been?"
My Outer Monologue: "I'm doing well. you know. How are you?"
My Inner Monologue: "I'm so much hotter than I was when I fucked you. No need to answer my question about how you've been. I don't care, and only said that to be polite. Man, you've put on weight/are losing your hair/clearly have no life. Clearly I was a high point in your life, which has even more obviously gone downhill since my departure. How sad for you. I wonder what's on Comedy Central right now?"
Recently, it seems like some kind of mass email went out, informing all my old lovers that I'm skinny and happy and sadly, still not getting laid. Slowly leaking back into my thoughts like the faucet in my bathroom, and filling my brain with regrets, contempt, disdain, and of course, temptations. This is more than the occasional, accidental run-in. They are actually seeking me out with startling perseverance. Some I haven't spoken to in weeks, other in nearly years, yet there they are--on the phone, in my inbox, instant messaging me. Here are some conversation excerpts that may or may not have been altered:
The Friend of a Friend: Are you ready to be friends again? I'm just trying to salvage our relationship.
Me: Friends again? When were we ever friends?!?
Friend of a Friend: Well, you look really good. You've lost a lot of weight. Are you seeing anybody?
Me: Okay then.
Mr. Smith: The last time I saw you, I said I'd call you and we'd hang out and I'm sorry that I didn't.
Me: These things happen.
Mr. Smith: What are you doing on Friday?
The Roommate: It'd be a bad idea for us to be in a jail cell together. We'd probably have sex.
Me: We're probably going to have sex anyway.
The Coworker: *flashing a $100 Monopoly bill* How much can I get for this?
Me: Are you drunk?
The Dry Humper: I got the speeding ticket from that night we went out. How have you been? I'm sorry if I offended you.
Me: Offended? No. Chafed? Yes.
The Sweet Boy: I'm going to be in DC for Memorial Day weekend. We're going to a game at the new stadium.
Me: That's my birthday.
The Sweet Boy: I know! Isn't that great?
Me: Well, I was going to go to Vegas with my friends for the big 25 celebration, wear a blonde wig, tell everyone my name is Cherry, and have sex with someone whose first name I never bothered to find out. But you know, spending my birthday at a Nats game with shitty, warm light beer and a man I'm not going to get to sleep with is just as good.
The only time I was actually grateful for an old lover coming back was Boy Blue. It went like this:
Boy Blue: Sorry I haven't been in touch. I've been seeing this girl for awhile.
Me: Congrats.
Boy Blue: I think about you though. You're still very arousing.
Me: Why thank you.
Boy Blue: You always seemed like you had something long-term going on. Very secretive, you are. But it worked.
Me: I don't think I was so secretive.
Boy Blue: Not secretive, I guess. It's just that we never felt the need to tell each other every detail of our lives but were still able to have great sex.
Me: I always left happy.
Boy Blue: I wouldn't have it any other way.
Me: Maybe we could get a drink sometime. That is, if you don't think it'd get you into trouble.
Boy Blue: I don't see the harm in that.
The little smile he gave at the end of that sentence told me that he did see the harm. He knew what would happen as much as I did. That little smile, shared only between us. Suddenly, there we were, back in our old ways. Forgetting conversation, pleasantries, all that shit that doesn't matter. All that mattered was what we had always known: when we were together, it was certain that we both felt exactly the same thing at exactly the same moment. Words were superfluous. And this is why Boy Blue will always be the best lover I ever had. The only cockroach I don't mind finding on my kitchen counter.
Every now and then, an old lover will reappear in my life. Bump into someone who saw you naked at CVS? Oh I did that. Receive a desperate booty call at 4 am on a Tuesday? You betcha. Even made a few of those calls myself. Fortunately, most of these run-ins have occured when I've been in a good position. Skinnier, happier, and less awkward then I previously was. It usually goes something like this:
Former Lover: "Wow, you look great! How have you been?"
My Outer Monologue: "I'm doing well. you know. How are you?"
My Inner Monologue: "I'm so much hotter than I was when I fucked you. No need to answer my question about how you've been. I don't care, and only said that to be polite. Man, you've put on weight/are losing your hair/clearly have no life. Clearly I was a high point in your life, which has even more obviously gone downhill since my departure. How sad for you. I wonder what's on Comedy Central right now?"
Recently, it seems like some kind of mass email went out, informing all my old lovers that I'm skinny and happy and sadly, still not getting laid. Slowly leaking back into my thoughts like the faucet in my bathroom, and filling my brain with regrets, contempt, disdain, and of course, temptations. This is more than the occasional, accidental run-in. They are actually seeking me out with startling perseverance. Some I haven't spoken to in weeks, other in nearly years, yet there they are--on the phone, in my inbox, instant messaging me. Here are some conversation excerpts that may or may not have been altered:
The Friend of a Friend: Are you ready to be friends again? I'm just trying to salvage our relationship.
Me: Friends again? When were we ever friends?!?
Friend of a Friend: Well, you look really good. You've lost a lot of weight. Are you seeing anybody?
Me: Okay then.
Mr. Smith: The last time I saw you, I said I'd call you and we'd hang out and I'm sorry that I didn't.
Me: These things happen.
Mr. Smith: What are you doing on Friday?
The Roommate: It'd be a bad idea for us to be in a jail cell together. We'd probably have sex.
Me: We're probably going to have sex anyway.
The Coworker: *flashing a $100 Monopoly bill* How much can I get for this?
Me: Are you drunk?
The Dry Humper: I got the speeding ticket from that night we went out. How have you been? I'm sorry if I offended you.
Me: Offended? No. Chafed? Yes.
The Sweet Boy: I'm going to be in DC for Memorial Day weekend. We're going to a game at the new stadium.
Me: That's my birthday.
The Sweet Boy: I know! Isn't that great?
Me: Well, I was going to go to Vegas with my friends for the big 25 celebration, wear a blonde wig, tell everyone my name is Cherry, and have sex with someone whose first name I never bothered to find out. But you know, spending my birthday at a Nats game with shitty, warm light beer and a man I'm not going to get to sleep with is just as good.
The only time I was actually grateful for an old lover coming back was Boy Blue. It went like this:
Boy Blue: Sorry I haven't been in touch. I've been seeing this girl for awhile.
Me: Congrats.
Boy Blue: I think about you though. You're still very arousing.
Me: Why thank you.
Boy Blue: You always seemed like you had something long-term going on. Very secretive, you are. But it worked.
Me: I don't think I was so secretive.
Boy Blue: Not secretive, I guess. It's just that we never felt the need to tell each other every detail of our lives but were still able to have great sex.
Me: I always left happy.
Boy Blue: I wouldn't have it any other way.
Me: Maybe we could get a drink sometime. That is, if you don't think it'd get you into trouble.
Boy Blue: I don't see the harm in that.
The little smile he gave at the end of that sentence told me that he did see the harm. He knew what would happen as much as I did. That little smile, shared only between us. Suddenly, there we were, back in our old ways. Forgetting conversation, pleasantries, all that shit that doesn't matter. All that mattered was what we had always known: when we were together, it was certain that we both felt exactly the same thing at exactly the same moment. Words were superfluous. And this is why Boy Blue will always be the best lover I ever had. The only cockroach I don't mind finding on my kitchen counter.
posted by The Husskateer at 2:54 PM
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