do you remember when twenty-one years was old?
She was looking at me, across the table, the look that one gets the morning after and the person you just spent the night with made you breakfast. Seeing how no woman had ever made me breakfast before, I figured her slightly puzzled expression belied the fact that no guy had ever made her breakfast either. First times for everything.
She was at least wearing the robe I left out. Gave myself a mental "attaboy" for purchasing a second robe for these kinds of situations. Seeing how the trail of clothes essentially lead from the front door to the bedroom I thought it best to let common sense play out and allow the embarrassment to slide, not that there should be any in the first place. Let's be serious: It's not like my clothing wasn't scattered along the same trail.
*
We'd only met the previous night. On a whim I actually went downtown, something I've never done since I moved here, simply to check out a hole in the wall Irish pub. I took my traditional bag of work along with me so at least if I was bored or they were showing UFC on the tvs I'd have something to do while I drank a few pints and bullshitted with the bartender. It's also a good conversation starter I've found, as well as a conversation ender. Nice how it can be advantageous in both situations.
*
She finally picked up the knife and fork and dug in. Thank God she isn't a nutrition freak I think to myself, seeing how it's my not yet famous french toast that is being eaten piece by piece. We still haven't said anything yet this morning, which I find odd.
She takes a sip from the mimosa, and I finally decide to just go for it.
*
I was the only one at the bar when I sat down at 5 P.M. I was sorting out the schedule two weeks out when she walked in. Paul, the barkeep, knew her by name but she stayed at the other end, and ordered a black and tan. I perked up hearing what she drank.
Within an hour she went from asking me what I was so "intensely working on" to sitting beside me and offering (unneeded) advice on where to fill in the empty shifts on my schedule. By 10 P.M., and after a few drinks of course, I knew she had just gotten out of a six year relationship with a guy that had been cheating on her for five of those years, and she knew that I blew a great thing with a girl who made in one month what I made in a year.
*
"Hi, I'm Jeremy."
The look on her face was beautiful.
"Thank God." She offered her hand. I took it. "I'm Laura."
That stopped me for a second, since I recalled that she had the same name as an ex-girlfriend, but couldn't say for sure what name. I shrugged it off. Big fucking deal.
*
By 11 it was a done deal in my head, and sure enough we ended up back at my place. We both drove, separately, which was a bad idea doubled. Talked outside the front door for a few minutes that turned into the wondering why aren't we in bed yet kind of non-conversation.
*
Let's just say that it was a good night.
*
I had forgotten that her name was Laura, just like she had forgotten my name and that her recent ex was Jim. Fresh starts. She said the french toast was good, but not the best (eh, it's a work in progress). She loved how I had a robe set out for her, especially how she couldn't figure out where most of her clothes were. I pointed out the trail that she had walked past and she simply replied "I'll get that when I'm ready".
We did the breakfast thing, got our lives straight, and then spent the rest of the afternoon back in bed.
It was the right thing to do.
She was at least wearing the robe I left out. Gave myself a mental "attaboy" for purchasing a second robe for these kinds of situations. Seeing how the trail of clothes essentially lead from the front door to the bedroom I thought it best to let common sense play out and allow the embarrassment to slide, not that there should be any in the first place. Let's be serious: It's not like my clothing wasn't scattered along the same trail.
*
We'd only met the previous night. On a whim I actually went downtown, something I've never done since I moved here, simply to check out a hole in the wall Irish pub. I took my traditional bag of work along with me so at least if I was bored or they were showing UFC on the tvs I'd have something to do while I drank a few pints and bullshitted with the bartender. It's also a good conversation starter I've found, as well as a conversation ender. Nice how it can be advantageous in both situations.
*
She finally picked up the knife and fork and dug in. Thank God she isn't a nutrition freak I think to myself, seeing how it's my not yet famous french toast that is being eaten piece by piece. We still haven't said anything yet this morning, which I find odd.
She takes a sip from the mimosa, and I finally decide to just go for it.
*
I was the only one at the bar when I sat down at 5 P.M. I was sorting out the schedule two weeks out when she walked in. Paul, the barkeep, knew her by name but she stayed at the other end, and ordered a black and tan. I perked up hearing what she drank.
Within an hour she went from asking me what I was so "intensely working on" to sitting beside me and offering (unneeded) advice on where to fill in the empty shifts on my schedule. By 10 P.M., and after a few drinks of course, I knew she had just gotten out of a six year relationship with a guy that had been cheating on her for five of those years, and she knew that I blew a great thing with a girl who made in one month what I made in a year.
*
"Hi, I'm Jeremy."
The look on her face was beautiful.
"Thank God." She offered her hand. I took it. "I'm Laura."
That stopped me for a second, since I recalled that she had the same name as an ex-girlfriend, but couldn't say for sure what name. I shrugged it off. Big fucking deal.
*
By 11 it was a done deal in my head, and sure enough we ended up back at my place. We both drove, separately, which was a bad idea doubled. Talked outside the front door for a few minutes that turned into the wondering why aren't we in bed yet kind of non-conversation.
*
Let's just say that it was a good night.
*
I had forgotten that her name was Laura, just like she had forgotten my name and that her recent ex was Jim. Fresh starts. She said the french toast was good, but not the best (eh, it's a work in progress). She loved how I had a robe set out for her, especially how she couldn't figure out where most of her clothes were. I pointed out the trail that she had walked past and she simply replied "I'll get that when I'm ready".
We did the breakfast thing, got our lives straight, and then spent the rest of the afternoon back in bed.
It was the right thing to do.
posted by jersn at 4:21 AM
3 Comments:
I hope this was last week for you.
Nope. Practicing my prose. Been listening to old GBV, which unfortunately means 2002 or so anymore.
We're getting old.
I'm appreciating age.
I look forward to one of us doing something akin to the film Primer, either written or otherwise.
Oddly enough, somewhat different cirucumstances, and a different name, but that fit the weekend to a tee two weeks ago. Very odd.
No joke. Almost exactly, aside from her name and that it was her place and not mine. Fuck. And No Contact Since, aside from random txt mssgs and "hey how ya doin'"
Where did this come from? But not in a stalker sense, more just like, "Hey!"
I may have to just block her. Done crazy. Not my style.
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