Long distance, pt. IV
So G**** eventually phones in just like I said she would, even despite we haven’t talked to each other in a couple of years. This is her story as well as it is yours.
The conversation, providing you’re okay with reading the Cliff’s Notes for John Milton instead of going head-on into Paradise Lost, goes like this:
“I got engaged and will marry within the year,” says G**** shortly after the hellos and how-do-you-dos.
“Well give my regards to that E**** kid,” I say kind of nonchalantly.
“Who’s…?”
“Oh come on, man, G****,” I blurt out. “Not him too!”
“It’s sorta like, it’s a different guy,” she says. “We met a couple of years ago.”
“Jesus.”
“What about you?,” asks G**** and in G****-talk it usually translates as whether I’m seeing someone or not.
“Same old, same old. I’m old-school all the way, babe,” I reply and in my talk it means I’m all for changing the subject because I’m so not going there with G****, of all people. Then I cue myself right in and tell her of the tattoo, of the apartment, also about the office and the day I went to do this presentation to my boss last year and I forgot I had a Lex Luthor wallpaper up on my desktop.
“Oh. Wow.” (I can say she’s impressed and it makes me feel a little prouder for myself than I actually should, in a sort of 1980s yuppie-esque kind-of way).
“Anyway. You still looking hot?”
“My fiancée thinks so, thanks for asking.” she laughs a little. “So are you coming to the wedding or not?”
“Dude, the day you enter that church’s gonna be the saddest day of my life.”
“Don’t tempt me, boy” she says in that very sexy manner all too particular to her. It almost gets me going just as it used to all those years ago.
“I’m still in love with you, man…”
“No you aren’t, you idiot. You never were!,” she throws it right back at me with a smile on her lips. Feels good to be fencing with her again after all this time.
I end up getting to write her address down on a piece of paper only there’s not really any paper in sight at the hotel so I tear a page off one of those omnipresent hotel room Holy Bibles and, fitting enough, it’s the last page from the Apocalypse and God is saying unto Man that, I’m the Alpha and the Omega and etc.
This thing between G**** and I has always been that Wagnerian anyway, if not a little bit more platonic than it should, at least in the end.
The conversation, providing you’re okay with reading the Cliff’s Notes for John Milton instead of going head-on into Paradise Lost, goes like this:
“I got engaged and will marry within the year,” says G**** shortly after the hellos and how-do-you-dos.
“Well give my regards to that E**** kid,” I say kind of nonchalantly.
“Who’s…?”
“Oh come on, man, G****,” I blurt out. “Not him too!”
“It’s sorta like, it’s a different guy,” she says. “We met a couple of years ago.”
“Jesus.”
“What about you?,” asks G**** and in G****-talk it usually translates as whether I’m seeing someone or not.
“Same old, same old. I’m old-school all the way, babe,” I reply and in my talk it means I’m all for changing the subject because I’m so not going there with G****, of all people. Then I cue myself right in and tell her of the tattoo, of the apartment, also about the office and the day I went to do this presentation to my boss last year and I forgot I had a Lex Luthor wallpaper up on my desktop.
“Oh. Wow.” (I can say she’s impressed and it makes me feel a little prouder for myself than I actually should, in a sort of 1980s yuppie-esque kind-of way).
“Anyway. You still looking hot?”
“My fiancée thinks so, thanks for asking.” she laughs a little. “So are you coming to the wedding or not?”
“Dude, the day you enter that church’s gonna be the saddest day of my life.”
“Don’t tempt me, boy” she says in that very sexy manner all too particular to her. It almost gets me going just as it used to all those years ago.
“I’m still in love with you, man…”
“No you aren’t, you idiot. You never were!,” she throws it right back at me with a smile on her lips. Feels good to be fencing with her again after all this time.
I end up getting to write her address down on a piece of paper only there’s not really any paper in sight at the hotel so I tear a page off one of those omnipresent hotel room Holy Bibles and, fitting enough, it’s the last page from the Apocalypse and God is saying unto Man that, I’m the Alpha and the Omega and etc.
This thing between G**** and I has always been that Wagnerian anyway, if not a little bit more platonic than it should, at least in the end.
posted by 186282mps at 8:08 AM
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