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I emailed the Artboy this morning. Putting this in here so that I'll remember what I said to him.
(On a different note, I took The Spark's Bitch test this morning. I am 51% bitch. Hmm...)
*****
So I was talking to Brian yesterday. He went on a first date with some girl, experienced a first kiss. He was all giddy about it. Reading his words made me think about all the first kisses I�ve had in my life, which of course made me think of you.
It seems so long ago now that you and I were standing in the hallway of the Roslindale house, you in Ivy�s dress and me drunk on Jaeger shots. If I close my eyes, I can still picture the whole scene�Brendan walking by, pretending loudly not to see us. Brett coming over to tell me the taxi was there. You writing your number on that scrap of the Boston Globe on Brendan�s floor�unnecessary, because I already knew it by heart. Brett had made me repeat it all the way to the party so we could call Dicky once we got there. The number is gone now, but the rest of the night, at least the parts that involve you, are still so clear in my mind, even despite the alcoholic haze around the edges.
Sitting in bed last night, thinking about that night, I was very sad. Sometimes, I miss you so much, and other times, it�s like you were never here, and I�m not sure which of those makes me sadder.
Maybe it�s the time of year, but I�ve been awfully reminiscent of late. Not just about you, but in general. Nostalgic, even. Had dinner with Jim last night. We exchanged Christmas gifts. He was the hardest person on my list this year, partly because I see so little of him these days. My life is busy and different, and his is very much the same. It�s hard for me to be friends with him, and yet, I still am. One thing I can hold on to.
I told him I�d been in touch with you. He was surprised. I guess I can understand that, sort-of. You and I danced the same dance so many times, I can see where it would be difficult for someone who witnessed all that to think you and I could do anything but end up in bed together again. Can�t do that by email, though. Too bad we didn�t have this option all along.
I try to imagine seeing you, being around you on a different level. Truth is, I can�t imagine seeing you and not wanting to touch you, somehow�a hand on your arm, or the back of your neck, on your thigh while you�re driving. Can�t do that these days. But if I close my eyes, I can feel your skin on my fingers. Yesterday, I got a whiff of soap and it made me think of hugging a fresh-from-the-shower you. Things I think I�ve forgotten, looming under the surface, taunting me.
And yet, I don�t want you to misunderstand me. I truly am happy where I am. I hesitate to talk to you about it�you told me once you didn�t ever want to hear about my post-you love life. I just�The fact that I�m in a happy place now doesn�t devalue the you-place in my life. Rather, it makes it that much more special to me, somehow. There�s a piece of me that no one else will ever touch. You�re there forever, and I wouldn�t change that for anything. I like having that piece of you with me. It warms me. Except for the moments when it burns, but I�m learning to deal with that.
I hope your trip was wonderful, and that your new semester starts on a good note.
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