Thursday, September 29, 2005

Girls of the Past - C


I first met C when I was 13 or 14, as we were in band together. She had a younger sister who was her exact opposite. C felt like a mother before she was a mother. She was nurturing and kind, always seeming to stand up for people. Plus, she had a certain quality about her, I can’t really define it.

I always harbored somewhat of a crush on her, although I was not always aware of it.

I ran into her in a video store after graduation and we had a great, long talk and now that I had finally realized how to talk to women, I thought, I should pursue this. And she ended this conversation by saying that she was going out with M, one of my best friends since grade school. Which is odd, because he and I were great friends, and I think I knew they were dating, but didn’t know how serious. Maybe I just don’t pay attention, which is probably true.

Regardless, I grew to be great friends with both of them. I was in their wedding party and frequently attended parties, almost weekly, at their small apartment. She was the first woman I ever met who kept erotica in the bathroom, or anywhere for that matter.

I remember one drunken conversation about why he never wanted to touch her and it made me angry, as angry as I could get in my numb, constantly trying to escape any feeling youth.

We lost track when D and I broke up. I think in the back of my head I resented her for staying friends with D. I don’t know. I also think I wanted to escape my hometown and become a new person after L and I broke up.

Whatever happened, all I ever got from her were letters for birthdays. Then, I heard that she and M were divorcing. I knew they had problems for years. I called and talked to her for awhile and she sounded rougher voiced, but still the same person I knew, always working her ass off, always making things better for people, a mother to the end, but now with a son of her own and getting rid of M, because she realized finally that she could never change what his family and DNA made him.

All in all, it’s rather sad.

That said, in some small town of 8,000 people, there was one girl I knew who wanted more from lovemaking than thirty seconds in the backseat and read and wrote about it. I’m sure there are more. But she was the first one I met.


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