I Remember You04 Apr, 2013 02:16 AM
I remember you in junior high. You were a year younger than me so of course we didn't socialize, but I liked you. You were dating another geek. You ran track. You played the trumpet.
I remember you in high school. The marching band went to a trip to Hollywood, and my friend and I (who weren't really part of it but along for the ride anyway) ran into you and your friends and decided that you all were much more fun than the people that we were stuck with. I remember listening to you play 'Round Midnight. I remember feeling a stirring in the pit of my stomach.
I remember you during my Senior Prom. We called it the anti-Prom because we all couldn't afford tickets so we went out, me and my boyfriend, you and your girlfriend, and my friend and her boyfriend, all part of the same circle, to a restaurant and then back to my boyfriend's house where each of the couples had alone time. I remember selfishly wishing I were with you instead.
I remember our break time, where I'd read books on the couch in the music wing and you'd sit next to me and flirt. I remember being so confused because it went beyond flirting and you had your hand up my shirt when my choir directer walked by and had a whole discussion with me without noticing. I remember we both were confused because we were dating other people. I remember getting mad at you for confusing me.
I remember when I turned 22 and got married, you came to my wedding. I invited your girlfriend at the time, but she couldn't make it. The next year, you and her got married, and my husband and I came to your wedding. It was sweet.
I remember when I was 27, my husband was thinking of traveling with his rock band and leaving me alone. I remember you offering your support even when it was online, and your never-ending logic. I remember when I was 31 with a new baby and my husband had a drunk affair. I remember you came in the kitchen of our friends house and offered support as I cried on my friend's shoulder. I remember you advising me to work on what needs fixing in my marriage. I remember the various comments you'd make that you and your wife were in an open marriage. I remember filing that away for later.
I remember telling you and my best friend about the first time my husband and I went "swinging." I remember you supporting me and mentioning that you wife allows you to "have fun" when you want. I remember filing that away for later, too. I remember deciding with my husband that we would be polyamorous and so I sent you a message asking if you'd like to join me on New Year's Eve.
I remember sleeping together at the party. I remember feeling so comfortable with you. I remember visiting you the next night and sleeping with you again, this time in a fit of wanton passion. I remember you kissed me afterwards. I remember that surprised me.
I remember us talking and deciding that we'd like to take this deeper, with the understanding that we also would like to stay married to our spouses as well as be completely honest with them. I remember at various points, everyone being fine and happy with all of it.
I remember the hiking trip we took with friends. I remember that you took a picture of me in the canyon looking up at the waterfall. I remember your trip to Japan and how I took a trip to Florida at the same time. I remember your trip somewhere else, and how I took a trip to Maine at the same time.
I remember you came to hear me sing on the 4th of July. I remember hating how I sounded but still so proud you and your wife came to support me. I remember the fireworks. I remember I found you later. I remember finding small times to be together. I remember sharing something deeper than friendship or physical intimacy when we were with our friends. I remember looking forward to our annual gathering again, whereas for years before, I didn't.
I remember asking my mother to help me with making a gift for you, something I could put a lot of love into, but not a lot of money, I remember being suddenly scared your wife wouldn't like me, even though we'd been together for a year, and that she could say one word and we'd be over. I remember that revelation terrified me. I remember realizing that I was in love with you. But also, I remember you telling me more about your ex girlfriend from college. I remember you telling me how she haunts you. I remember listening to you, my heart filling with affection for your injured soul. I remember you composing a letter to her, with your wife's approval and then mine. I remember you struggling with nightmares of her and her rejection of even a basic friendship with you. I remember you running into her later and your bewilderment at her reaction and the nightmares and depression that followed.
I remember having fun with you in bed, out of bed, and I remember nothing I nor your wife did could ever bring you out of your funk for long. I remember you met up with another ex, and comforted her. In bed. I remember how I was shocked, confused, hurt and angry. I remember how you realized you hadn't explained to me the nature of that relationship beforehand. I remember forgiving you quickly. I remember the outpouring of affection you showed me. I remember wondering if maybe you actually loved me back as deeply as I love you. I remember you saying you didn't want to lose me over this. I remember you saying that we were stronger than this. I remember you threatening to serenade me with a 1980's boom box as if we were in a Cameron Crowe movie. I remember wishing we were.
I remember looking at your ex's pictures. I remember being upset and I remember you putting into words for me exactly why I would be upset. I remember you saying that I would be angry that you were in love with an immature girl who didn't deserve your love and that you couldn't express that same level of emotion for someone who you felt had earned it - me. I remember you saying you felt you were emotionally unavailable and had put up a block for yourself. I remember agreeing with you.
I remember crying to my husband about the loss, because although we hadn't broken up, I craved that deeper connection and you were pretty sure you couldn't provide it. I remember looking at your profile picture with sadness, not just knowing that I wasn't enough to beat your demons, but knowing that she will haunt you and ruin you until she lets you go, and since she never wants to see you again, that may never happen. I remember crying for you, not for the loss of you, but for your future with that ghost about you. I remember hoping you wouldn't regret that stuff interfering with our relationship, and I also remember that you probably would see things rationally in the end and it would be no big deal. I remember realizing that I had been right all along, you had been keeping me at arm's-length. And I remember not blaming you for it.
I remember deciding that I really did want that deeper connection with a person and that I'd probably have to let go of you in a way in order to devote time to a new person. I remember knowing that I didn't have to do that yet, but I remember already being sad about the eventuality. And then I remember crying a little bit about losing what I hoped would be more, even though it was a lot already.
I remember google'ing breaking up with a lover and finding this site. I remember glancing over at the tab that had a waiting message from you as I wrote this. I remember wanting things to be different. I remember listening to 'Round Midnight while I wrote this.
I don't remember how this ended yet...