December 29, 2002
this once, I don�t know what to say
I was going to write about coffee with the Lost boy the other night. I was going to fill your eyes with descriptions of looks and words and deeds. I was going to go into so much detail about such tiny, seemingly insignificant things.
But I didn�t.
And I won�t.
Not because I want to hold it close to me for a while longer. Or because it�s so sweet I refuse to let it out. Really, it wasn�t anything spectacular or even really worth marking.
It was nice yet reserved/ comfortable yet stiff/ friendly yet awkward.. so many contradictory things.
And when the night ended I didn�t know anything. Not about his feelings for me. Not about my feelings for him. Not about the past or the future.
And when my mother asked if I would date him again, I was honest when I said I didn�t know.
What can you say about the boy who took your virginity? The boy who gave you his? The boy who after years and years still knows you so well?
We sat drinking coffee and eating tater tots at The Grill that night. And we talked about so many things. Veiled and not so veiled mentions of times together in the recent and not so recent past. And I stared off into space for what must have been mere seconds. And he said, �Don�t do that. Don�t get nostalgic. It�s not becoming.� And he made little comments about everything from the way I hold my cigarette to the fact that I kept distance between as while we walked.
And I told him not to pay such close attention and he said he was trying not to.
And when we dropped his friend off at one of the sorority houses the friend shook my hand and said he was sure he�d see me again. But honestly, I�m not sure he will. And I can guarantee Lost doesn�t know either. It�s weird like that with us.
6:39 p.m.