“Oh, well, I keep in touch with her. She was in my wedding-- my first wedding. I was married before this. I dated Justin Hornell all through high school, you know, and then I met my first husband and we got married real quick. And then this. Are y’all married? Oh, well, we lived together first, too. And let me tell you -- if y’all ever do get married-- we got married and got pregnant in three months. It can happen. And I don’t know if you want to know this. . . but then, after I stopped breastfeeding my little girl, we got pregnant again like that. . . .”
I went to my ten year high school reunion. I must have known this Heather at some point, but by this point I was glad she went to get some food, because I did not need any more details. And I’m pretty sure you can’t get pregnant from getting married. . . pretty sure.
When we got there, I was greeted by the lunch table where I didn’t sit in high school. Everyone had the exact same haircuts.
*********
I’ve been away for a few weeks, and some things have changed. My boy moved in. We’ve fought, like twice, but I don’t really see any reason for this not to work out. Work got busy, then calm, because things are easy with me and Sam in charge. Ted and I went to this reunion and to see my parents. We travel well together as long as I stay away from coffee. Next weekend we’re going to the beach with Julianna and Ed.
At dinner a few nights ago, sitting at the little table we’ve borrowed from his parents, I told Ted that I knew how the movie of my life would start:
It opens with I am a Rock by Simon and Garfunkel playing. I’d walk out of the subway, coming home from work. I’d nod shyly to a doorman, wait for the light and cross the street, I’d get to my shabby building, and there’d be no mail when I checked. In my little apartment with no furniture, I’d change clothes and fluff my hair. Then the music would stop-- silence-- and the scene would cut to me sitting across two huge plates from and average looking guy in a trendy restaurant. I’d say something inappropriate.
“Then what?”
“That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
So I guess things have changed. Three years ago I’d take weekends off Facebook because the engagements were overwhelming. Memorial Day Weekend, four of my Facebook friends had babies. (One was cute; three were not.) I live with a boy. Today I came home from work and baked cookies so he could take them to poker night with the guys. I’m sure that pretty soon he’s going to start closing the shower curtain after he’s taken a shower.
’Cause even though some never do, people can change.
~beatrix
Showing posts with label hair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hair. Show all posts
18.6.10
29.3.10
don't look back
We said we’d have a berry farm in the mountains.
We would have had kids who ran around with too-long hair and never any shoes. They’d be olive like him and good swimmers. We’d have nights on porches with all the stars we ever wanted and sunshine mornings with wildflowers and sweet potato pancakes.
He answered the phone, “Hee-ey there, pretty girl.” I learned that Eagle Scouts aren’t always prepared.
It was one month, and beautiful the way something can be when it is purely hypothetical-- like communism and vegan baked goods.
We both cried, sitting on the trunk of his Blazer with the rusty top. Nine days, I’d begged. Let’s just have these last nine days.
We graduated. We never said I love you. When my brother met a whole bunch of my exes at a single graduation party, he said he didn’t like Fred. He asked if I thought Hugo would help me move.
Fred’s an accountant now. He has tidy hair and shirts with buttons and proper shoes and no piercings.
“How long have you been waiting for me to do that?” There was that sweaty weekend and that night in that hotel. Even when Eagle Scouts grow up to be accountants, they aren’t always prepared.
He doesn’t answer his phone the same way anymore, which probably makes sense. I’d forgotten about the mole on his right cheek.
Fred’s a pile of what-if. What if we’d figured it out sooner. What if I hadn’t moved when I’d graduated. What if he’d gotten this job instead of that one.
What if he’d ever fought for it.
~beatrix
p.s. i hope you click the link and remember how this used to be a dating blog.
~b
We would have had kids who ran around with too-long hair and never any shoes. They’d be olive like him and good swimmers. We’d have nights on porches with all the stars we ever wanted and sunshine mornings with wildflowers and sweet potato pancakes.
He answered the phone, “Hee-ey there, pretty girl.” I learned that Eagle Scouts aren’t always prepared.
It was one month, and beautiful the way something can be when it is purely hypothetical-- like communism and vegan baked goods.
We both cried, sitting on the trunk of his Blazer with the rusty top. Nine days, I’d begged. Let’s just have these last nine days.
We graduated. We never said I love you. When my brother met a whole bunch of my exes at a single graduation party, he said he didn’t like Fred. He asked if I thought Hugo would help me move.
Fred’s an accountant now. He has tidy hair and shirts with buttons and proper shoes and no piercings.
“How long have you been waiting for me to do that?” There was that sweaty weekend and that night in that hotel. Even when Eagle Scouts grow up to be accountants, they aren’t always prepared.
He doesn’t answer his phone the same way anymore, which probably makes sense. I’d forgotten about the mole on his right cheek.
Fred’s a pile of what-if. What if we’d figured it out sooner. What if I hadn’t moved when I’d graduated. What if he’d gotten this job instead of that one.
What if he’d ever fought for it.
~beatrix
p.s. i hope you click the link and remember how this used to be a dating blog.
~b
14.4.09
My hair smells like a spring rain shower
Dear Dove,
Thank you for your ad campaigns celebrating women of every shape, size, and color. Of course they all have shiny hair and no cellulite, but still, it's a step in the right direction.
I have one teensy request about your current marketing campaign. Would you please clearly label your aerosol deodorant product on the front? Right now it just says something about "silky-smooth," or "soft silkiness" but no mention of odor control or perspiration. And (a-hem) someone might confuse it with hairspray and douse their head in deodorant.
Sincerely,
Harper
Thank you for your ad campaigns celebrating women of every shape, size, and color. Of course they all have shiny hair and no cellulite, but still, it's a step in the right direction.
I have one teensy request about your current marketing campaign. Would you please clearly label your aerosol deodorant product on the front? Right now it just says something about "silky-smooth," or "soft silkiness" but no mention of odor control or perspiration. And (a-hem) someone might confuse it with hairspray and douse their head in deodorant.
Sincerely,
Harper
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
