I’m back bitches! After a nearly 3 week hiatus from writing on this blog I have an exclusive piece just for you. Enjoy and expect lots more original stuff in the weeks to come!
He was the only guy I ever really dated. Meaning we weren’t ever really “official” but we often spent weekends together, seeing movies and going out to dinner before going back to his apartment for wine and.. .you know… other things. I was in my sophomore year at George Washington and he was a 24 year old bartender at the restaurant I hostessed at. I guess you could say I was a total cliche for my age, thinking I was grown up and yet being much more naive than I cared to admit. He was what the most interesting guy I’d ever met. He was from a small town in Arkansas and looked every bit like it. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, built and slightly taller than me when I didn’t wear heels. But he was different than his what he looked like. He spoke three languages fluently, read classics and meaty philosophy books in his spare time. He was incredibly fit but also visited a rock climbing gym a few times a week. He was charming, cultured, and an extreme foodie, always taking me out to great hole-in-the-wall joints in Virginia and classy sushi places in the heart of DC. One time he even came to a holiday christmas party with my family and when I foolishly got piss drunk of off a mixture of brandy & eggnog and Sangria (I was 19, don’t judge me) then threw up all over the bathroom he cleaned me and it all up, put me to bed, and called me the next day. That’s the kind of person he was.
Thinking back on it now it felt like we dated for a while but reflecting on it even further I realize it couldn’t have been much more than a season (I told you I was cliche). It ended clean and without drama; we both agreed that . For a girl barely out of her teens it was the first experience I’d ever had where no one felt vindictive or spiteful afterwards. We mutually decided it had run it’s course, and we went our separate ways. We worked together for another few months before he decided it was time to go travel the world and experience life. His last day at the restaurant I gave him a bottle of wine and a hug, which he received well and told me to keep in touch. We did via Facebook, and without even remembering him I went on with my life.
He would sporadically pop up on my news feed ever now in then. I would often like his pictures from Brazil and New Zealand. Somewhere around my senior year I started seeing picture of him with an older woman and watched as the pictures turned to home life, them moving in together, and small wedding ceremony I think. Then a few months ago a sonogram photo with a caption about finally becoming a dad. I paused and thought about him deeply for the first time in a long time. I remember his apartment and the long metro rides I would take to visit him. This person who was now going to be a dad had at one point been a part of my life – even if for a moment, and that made me happy and sad all at the same time.
I am now the age he was when we dated. I aways saw him as so put together when now I realize he was just getting his head on straight. Now he’s married, starting a family and it seems that the markers of my youth are also aging. We he was in my life all I wanted was to speed up time and get to this end – to that part that he’s in now and yet seeing it makes me want to go to room and hide under the sheet. I wanted to save him too. I know that sounds bad because he’s about to experience the happiest moments in his life, but to me he will always be this free spirit, untapped by anything, dreaming about everything.It was as if seeing him all grown up made me see how much time has passed, how we all move forward and that chapter in his life has finished. I desperately wanted to grab him back through the pages, but selfishly – so that I could still feel young, so I could stay in my ending chapter of early twenties where he had once been.
Those feelings have sense faded and for now I just like his many baby update statuses and send him good wishes. It feels weird to want that because I still feel too young to be wishing any of my ex’s good luck on his new baby. Still, these type of life events will continue to happen to more people I know, and then my closet friends, and then me because time can’t stop, the best you can do is take each chapter and write the hell out of it.