confession: in another life i am a mythologist and in a life parallel to that one, i am the creator of a new mythology never before known to the world that instantly becomes ancient and universal the moment i write it down. my life is just long enough that i have time to do and be and live both of those other lives if i choose them, but if i want those lives, i best choose them quickly. like now.
confession: i have a general rule to wait four hours after awakening before imbibing alcohol (which means if i wake at 6am, a 10am cocktail is absolutely within bounds). i had a late night last night, little sleep, and an early liquid lunch date this morning. i was drinking less than two hours after i awoke and the buzz was all the better due to my self-imposed rule-breaking. she and i are both rebellious by nature; early drinking harmonized with our conversation.
confession: enough years have passed that i felt okay about sharing the shameful secret moment that broke my marriage. i gave her the information as a gift, a counterpoint to help her cherish a moment she’s experiencing in her present life.
confession: after speaking out the shameful secret, after three shots of tequila, after we parted ways and walked back into our regular lives, i texted an old friend, someone i haven’t seen in more than four years because he was my ex-wife’s college boyfriend and i gave up our mutual friends when i left her. he and i agreed to meet for liquid lunch next week.
confession: last week i found some lingerie in an unlikely spot in the apartment. i recognized the lingerie as mine, but i don’t remember wearing it, when i would have worn it, for what occasion i would have chosen it. these lacy pieces belong to a long-ago lingerie era of my life, pretty frilly things that haven’t been my style in this millennium. i washed the little things and wore one today, just to see how it felt and if it would jog my memory. it felt tight and i remembered nothing.
confession: last night a band i love more than any other contemporary band was touring in my town for one night only. for the past month i’ve imagined taking 16 of you to this concert, platonic dates with all but two of you. i invited none of you. i was afraid that if i invited you to this concert and you didn’t love this band the way i love this band that i might like you a little less for not recognizing their brilliance, and i didn’t want to risk liking you less if you didn’t like them. i decided to go alone, to take myself on a solo date (and wear the recently found mysterious lingerie). on the way out the door, i got another offer…and i wavered. in the end, i skipped the concert and went with the last-minute offer presented to me because i was afraid that my heart would burst if i loved this band even more when i saw them in person and i was afraid that my heart would crinkle in disappointment if their live performance moved me less than their recordings. i’m not sure if i regret that choice or not. i’m not sure that i won’t fly to some town where they’re playing later this summer to catch one of their shows. i’m not sure about anything beyond loving this band so much that i’ve considered becoming their anonymous benefactress and starting a fan page for them where i post goofy lovestruck poems that make other whacko fans feel sorry for me.