I always thought I was a bit of a freak because I was a painter/writer but also shot 75% from the 3-point line AND would have sold my soul for backstage passes to almost any gig of a Seattle band. I knew a lot of people (both girls and guys) that were usually only one or another, perhaps 2 out of 3 at most... but Jim? He was a perfect trifecta - my match. In one afternoon we could debate about lyrics from Nirvana's Bleach album, play a heated one-on-one game of basketball, and then sketch in our own folios, in silence...well, until we fucked each other like a pair of rabbits, anyway. Ah, to be teenagers in love.
When he answered the door, he was still looking good; still smelling good and still dressing hot - but come on! I am now a
We exchanged a hug and some niceties. I wanted to just blab ridiculously about everything that I had been through in the past decade, but I maintained my cool as he showed me around his place. Bedrooms, nice. Living room, yes. Kitchen, ok... and then, as we passed a painting THAT I HAD DONE hanging on the wall, he showed me his music room. It was not a huge room, more like a den, but it was floor to ceiling with CDs; there were hundreds upon hundreds, and I got a little weak in the knees.
If I am to be totally blunt about it,
We had then gone outside to the backyard which was perfect because I was able to get some fresh air and hide the few renegade tears that had managed to escape as a result of experiencing that room - those little bastards! After a quick and bittersweet lunch, he dropped me off at the train station; I texted him right away.
Me: It was amazing to c u. Meant a lot to me.
Jim: No worries. Was nice to see u too. Xox
Me: Wish I had more time w/ u; would love to see u 1 more time ;)
And then he wrote me a frickin' novel that had to come to my phone in 3 downloads. I barely read half of it while rolling my eyes and snoring out loud. Blah...blah...something-something about not wanting to complicate anything with my marriage (not that it was any of his concern to begin with)...blah..., and needing to treasure the good memories we have. Blah.. blah...la-dee-fucking...blah...
After all these years and all we meant to each other, he should know me by now. I'm not a happy girl when I don't get my main course, let alone denied dessert. What can I say? I'm a spoiled bitch. *POUT*
Jim: I'll think about it.
Did I see him again? Of course not.
Do I still love him? Always.