2000-06-05 || 13:52:10

M, back from the past

Pounding back pint after pint with M (who, a year ago, I would have done anything for), Sister, and Sister's Lover, I thought back on how it used to be to drink with M, back when we drank together at least once every week. It's amazing how easy it is to slip right back into the old groove with some people. We drank together because she was a great drinking buddy. We drank too much and my wallet used to scream at me in frustration afterwards.

M was beautiful, I thought. It was her energy, the way she walked and smiled while serving tables, her dusty, dark, smoker's voice, and the way she spoke English-- not American or RoC-ian, but real, cracked French-Canadian English, with all the weird grammatical quirks that Canadian bi-lingualism has given it.

I also loved her waist and the fact that her hair always smelled newly washed, and the way she dressed with a complete lack of care for style or fad.

I hated the way she played with me after that night she got fired from the caf�, I got laid off from the porn company, and we went on our biggest drinkfest yet, spending all of our money, including her taxi ride. She slept in my bed, but I never touch a drunk woman out of respect. I don't think she believed me, and she changed a bit after that. Friendly as hell, but playing nonetheless. She would invite me out for coffee, then not call. Offering me her number, but forgetting to write it down. When she moved to Mexico, I was relieved.

She looks a little more worn nowadays. Her eyes never lose the slight glaze of the alcoholic, and her shoulders are slumped with fatigue-- often. She's back at the caf� and hating it, but she always has a ready smile and the offer of a beer or half of her supper when I walk in. And strangely, I am always happy to see her.

When I walked in to have a tea before meeting Sister at the pub, she was sitting at the bar. It was just like old times. I didn't even have to ask. When I got up to go, she slid in beside me. Later, she listened while I told her how happy I was with Lover (She likes her--really), and I listened while she raved about Duke in Seattle (Hey, if he could handle her, then all the power to him). Duke, you're lucky, but not as lucky as me. M invited me to a dinner party and finally gave me her phone number.

The count was six pints each, only one paid for (thank the gods for open bar). I still like her waist and the way her hair always smells like it's just been washed. But I *love* the way Lover's waist fits perfectly in the crook of my arm when we're snoozing, and the way she looks kind of dazed when she's just woken up.

I walked M to a taxi, then went back to Sister and Sister's Boyfriend at the pub.



||Gods save the Queen,
||cf

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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