confession: on the way home from the bar i stopped at the grocery store and bought $.25 clearance christmas bows, half-price soon-to-die-so-enjoy-them-quickly fresh flowers, and a 12-pack of generic diet dr. pepper because the generic is gentler with a lesser kick-in-the-throat. the couple behind me in the checkout line bought a frozen pizza, the gourmet kind not the cheap kind. they looked like friends not lovers but newish friends and crushing on each other, college graduates a few years past their punkish undergrad careers, he had more style than she did, mostly because she had bad hair dye. the dude in front of me in the checkout line bought two weeks’ worth of groceries and wouldn’t make eye contact with me or the clerk and probably has panic attacks in public places because he suffers from mild agoraphobia and that’s why he does his shopping at 2:30am. i noticed these details because i make up stories about people while i stand in line. i make up stories about people in the cars next to mine in traffic. i make up stories about people while i stand at the bar. i probably made up a story about you before i met you.
confession: i found where papi has been hiding the candy from me. i asked him to hide it from me but now that i’ve found it, i’m gonna eat it and wait til he busts me rather than confess to him.
confession: i’m tech-challenged and i live with a wizard which means that when i want a song downloaded, i ask wizard to do it for me. because he knows that i listen to songs on repeat and because he is aware of the severity of my technical challenges, after downloading a song i’ve requested he puts it on the desktop as an icon. a couple weeks ago i asked him to download several songs for me. tonight i found one on the desktop i didn’t remember asking for and now that it is playing on repeat, i think this song contains a wormhole to reach every universal truth. (no, i’m not tripping, but this song has enchanted me.)
confession: he’s winning. he doesn’t think so, but he is.
confession: i keep him up way past his bedtime.
confession: i love the smell of his beer from the bottle and on his breath. i hate the bitter taste of his beer in my mouth.
confession: people ask how i am and i can’t tell if they are genuinely inquiring or if they are asking out of habitual politeness. either way, i’m gonna say the same thing: “i’m great.” that’s the shortest truest answer i can give.
confession: he’s nervous and he should be because they broke up last year for justifiable reasons and those reasons haven’t changed except that they aren’t done with each other yet and they still want to be together and that’s the reason most couples who break up get back together and in the long run the relationship won’t work but in the short term they have to finish what remains unfinished between them which means loving each other up close again until they can’t stand the sight of each other…again.
confession: i’m grateful i have no unfinished business with any of my exes. unfinished grieving, yes. unfinished interactions or communication or loving, no.
confession: she acts like she knows me, like we’ve spent time together, like we’re friends. if so, i was blackout drunk when that went down…which is possible but unlikely. maybe she’s f*cking with me. maybe she’s crazy. maybe i ought to ask someone about her…except i don’t know her name.
confession: 2015 is the year i’m gonna wreck several pairs of boots while dancing in dusty bars and wear more lingerie, especially the trashy crotchless kind.