The List

I've been working on the list. I suppose it should be some kind of victory list, but it's become sad. The initial list of everyone I've ever slept with started out as a therapeutic tool of dealing with my past and hopefully, putting it to rest. Instead, it awoke a lot of buried memories. It sits on my desk written on the back of an envelope with my work healthcare benefits information inside. Every time I walk past it I remember another girl that I forgot about. The most recent was "Paralegal who said she didn't have a gag reflex (liar)" and another one "I think her name was Tina." We'll call her Trina to keep her anonymous.

She was the only blind date that I have ever gone on in my life. The first night we ever hung out we went downtown and shared some appetizers and cocktails. She had a good sense of humor and was cute and surprisingly, over 30. After two hours, she said "I've got to go meet friends in the city."

I thought this was her making an escape until she followed it up with, "I'd love for you to go with me."

I agreed to go. We went to the Elbo Room which was a bar from my youth. That place awakens so many memories, it's ridiculous. Being nineteen with a fake ID and listening to the best music on weeknights and then chasing it with a quesadilla suiza and two tacos al pastor from El Farolito at 3:00 AM. Driving home wasted and still feeling invincible. Not a care in the world, but a love of nice times and good music. I was there on my twenty first birthday and asked the bartender if I got a free drink and she said, "Dude. You've been coming here three nights a week for two years."

So, we got there and it was reggae night. The contact high was ridiculous. I met her friends and was charming and nice and really got along with everyone. She drove me home with a slight buzz and I didn't invite her in. I think I was kinda buying into it. She was just normal. I was looking for that at the time. We later talked about it and she said that she thought it was weird I didn't try anything and I told her it was because I respected her.

A week later I met her and her friends at a pub quiz night. I fuckin' rule at pub quiz. I drank too much and she gave me a ride to her house where I stayed for the night. We got along well. The next morning I showered and wore my yesterday clothes to work after she drove me to my car. The work of shame.

So, shit was good. She was mature. She was thin. She had good hair. She smelled nice. She adored me. I could feel it. She walked around in a silk robe in the morning and just glided around her room while I was slowly waking up and grabbing glimpses in between fighting seizing the day and ceasing the day.

The next time we hung out was at home with some of my friends. It started at a Mexican restaurant with a group of my friends where we created a temporary shortage of margaritas for the country of Mexico. I heard NAFTA had to change some tariff regulations to get it back to acceptable levels. We went to my home bar where I have CDs in the jukebox. We drank cocktails. I ingested horny goat weed from the vending machine in the ladies restroom and then we headed back to my apartment with everyone. It was a vortex of chaos.

At some point, I said something to her and she got pissed and walked out of the apartment. I looked at Pappy with my back to the front door and said "Fuck it, dude. That shit wasn't working out anyway. Let her fucking go."

Pappy was making a weird face. I thought he was going to puke. I turned around and she was standing behind me. She still stayed the night and we slept together, but any respect was gone for the way she let me talk about her. The whole act was more instinctual than passionate. It was almost a fucking reflex.

The last time we hung out was after the Super Bowl one year. It was pre-DUI so like an idiot, I drove to her place after the game. On the way there, my best friend since I was eight years old called me to tell me that he asked his girlfriend to marry him. I'm on a booty call and he's getting engaged to be married. Talk about fucking parallel, but fuck it. I got married first. Got divorced, too. A fucking relationship pioneer. Or, the Lewis & Clark of disappointment, perhaps.

Again, that night was reflexive. I felt empty the next morning, but still made out with her on the couch on my way out the door. I think she was really trying to make it work, too. I mean she shaved before every time we ever hung out. That says a lot to me. I knew in my heart, though, that this would never be it. I needed someone that would punch back and I was just going to leave footprints on her back if we tried to progress any further on this.

After that night, I dropped off her map. I got three drunk phone calls over the next week with her telling me, "You blew it. I was the best thing you will ever have. You have no idea what you are missing out on." I wished her well in all her endeavors and already had a short list of the best things I had ever had. She wasn't on there. She was merely my ticket to what I thought was normalcy. She was settling. I got defriended on facebook the next day. I now have three defriends. At this rate, hatebook could become a reality.

So, the list makes me reflect on shit like that. It's kind of good. It's kind of bad. In that situation I did the right thing, but feel bad for delivering the bitter pill to her. I tried to be as gentle as possible and would totally be comfortable if I bumped into her, but she is one of the few that carries ill will as an aftermath of us crashing into each other. I still carry feelings for about 60% of anyone that I've ever dated and even carry some feelings for a few of the one night stands. A few of those are still jump in front of a train for them strong. I don't know what that says about me. Fall too easy? Fall too fast? Or, is it all not even real and I just perceive it as falling. This is the stuff that keeps me up at night. The perils of honesty and wearing your heart on your sleeve. You get burned a lot, but you get to dance in the fire just as much. It's great in small bursts.