Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Two Men, Two Glasses And A Bottle

He came over around seven, I was sitting outside smoking, and I saw him coming up the drive. He had a liter or Makers in his hand and was looking straight at the ground. He sat down next to me on the stoop and lit up a cigarette, “I’ll go get some glasses,” I said. I came back out, sat down and started peeling the red wax from the cap of the bottle; the smell overwhelming me as I twisted off the cap. I poured two. Let’s get this over with/

We sat there on the street talking, working our way through the bottle and flicking cigarettes onto Dana Ave. The small talk subsided and we soon got to the reason we were sitting there drinking the bottle. The details are irrelevant; imagine what you would say to a friend who you stole his 3 year girlfriend from. Now imagine what I said back. There you have it.

As the evening went on and my eyesight became a blur, we talked about her. He kept apologizing to me over and over, finally I stopped him, “Dude, I don’t fucking care about her anymore, in fact the part that pissed me off the most was you…not her.” He told me that she seduced him (cunt) and that she was just too fucking hot to leave alone. I was drunk; I punched him square in the jaw. Something in me held back the full force. He just looked at me, knowing that I spared him…we went on talking.

I don’t know what to say about this whole thing at all, yesterday when I posted I felt like, “Oh yay everything will be fine again.” But when I sat and waited for him I kept thinking,

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…….

We really didn’t solve anything at all. He said he was sorry, he meant it. I told him I forgive him, I meant it. A few of my much less forgiving friends pointed out that I am playing. I have no idea what to think right now, Christ I don’t even remember much of the night (its 1630 and I’m still hung-over). I have decided one thing and maybe it is the only thing I need to worry about.

Don’t let him get close enough to stab you again.

I woke up this morning and the empty bottle was on the stoop when I went to work. I thought to myself, “Shit, it sure does feel better waking up with a bourbon hangover and not having a load of bad decisions to apologize for.” For once it was the other way around. Maybe I am growing up.

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