Monday, December 03, 2007
"Go back to bed, honey, it's just JT."
Recent conversations in the comments section over at the CDP brought this story to mind, and I'm a bit surprised that I never shared it with y'all. It has all of the critical parts of a well-written story: words, punctuation, and suggested wine pairings.
When I first moved back to Columbia, I was going through a divorce. I was newly single, back in my home town, and surrounded by old friends. I had a new job that paid me well, and minimal responsibilities. In short, it was like I was starting over, and I didn't want to miss a single minute of it. I worked hard, played harder, and almost never slept. As I'm writing this, I'm actually wondering how on earth I kept the schedule I did without dying from exhaustion or syphilis.
It didn't matter what night of the week it was, I was going out. Most of my friends kept fairly responsible schedules during the week due to jobs, so the only people left in the bars that I knew were my little sister's friends. Don't get me wrong, surrounding myself with hot young twenty-two and twenty-three-year-olds was fun at first, but two things happened: 1. I started realizing that I couldn't keep up. These girls stayed out all night long. 2. I started feeling like a creepy old man. I mean, I was 27, divorced, and temporarily back in residence at my parents house. Given, I was house-sitting for the summer, and they weren't home, but still...it was clearly not my house.
Luckily, this is where my friend Guy came into play. Guy was unemployed and slept all day, so he stayed up all night. Also, I knew that he never locked his back door. I started heading to his house at around midnight or 1 AM like clockwork. It never surprised him to see me come walking through the back door with a 12 pack of beer, and he was always glad to help drink it. I slept on his couch a lot in those days.
One night, Guy was telling me about a girl he had met the previous weekend and how awesome she was. A few nights later, I walked in through the back door, put the beers in the fridge, cracked one open, and went and turned on the stereo. Guy wasn't in sight, but I knew he would come out into the living room when he heard the music. Instead, a cute brunette walked out, looked slightly puzzled, then asked me for a beer, sat down and asked me what we were listening to. I had just met Angie. Angie had absolutely no problem with me wandering through the back door with beer in my hand, and she still doesn't. Guy was right, she was awesome, and they are now engaged to be married.
These days, I don't walk through the back door at Guy's that much anymore. We've both settled down. He's gainfully employed and still with Angie. For an added twist, her two kids have moved in, so they stay busy. I'm deeply in love with Melissa, and we stay in a good bit, especially during the week. Still, it's a good thing. I wouldn't trade it for anything else.
JT out.
When I first moved back to Columbia, I was going through a divorce. I was newly single, back in my home town, and surrounded by old friends. I had a new job that paid me well, and minimal responsibilities. In short, it was like I was starting over, and I didn't want to miss a single minute of it. I worked hard, played harder, and almost never slept. As I'm writing this, I'm actually wondering how on earth I kept the schedule I did without dying from exhaustion or syphilis.
It didn't matter what night of the week it was, I was going out. Most of my friends kept fairly responsible schedules during the week due to jobs, so the only people left in the bars that I knew were my little sister's friends. Don't get me wrong, surrounding myself with hot young twenty-two and twenty-three-year-olds was fun at first, but two things happened: 1. I started realizing that I couldn't keep up. These girls stayed out all night long. 2. I started feeling like a creepy old man. I mean, I was 27, divorced, and temporarily back in residence at my parents house. Given, I was house-sitting for the summer, and they weren't home, but still...it was clearly not my house.
Luckily, this is where my friend Guy came into play. Guy was unemployed and slept all day, so he stayed up all night. Also, I knew that he never locked his back door. I started heading to his house at around midnight or 1 AM like clockwork. It never surprised him to see me come walking through the back door with a 12 pack of beer, and he was always glad to help drink it. I slept on his couch a lot in those days.
One night, Guy was telling me about a girl he had met the previous weekend and how awesome she was. A few nights later, I walked in through the back door, put the beers in the fridge, cracked one open, and went and turned on the stereo. Guy wasn't in sight, but I knew he would come out into the living room when he heard the music. Instead, a cute brunette walked out, looked slightly puzzled, then asked me for a beer, sat down and asked me what we were listening to. I had just met Angie. Angie had absolutely no problem with me wandering through the back door with beer in my hand, and she still doesn't. Guy was right, she was awesome, and they are now engaged to be married.
These days, I don't walk through the back door at Guy's that much anymore. We've both settled down. He's gainfully employed and still with Angie. For an added twist, her two kids have moved in, so they stay busy. I'm deeply in love with Melissa, and we stay in a good bit, especially during the week. Still, it's a good thing. I wouldn't trade it for anything else.
JT out.
Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home
<< Home
