Monday night. Colfax. Sanchos. Whiskey talls. Some Cajun band I can’t recall the name. Him. Across the room playing pool. Gorgeous ass. Long, blonde hair. Muscles. “Who is that?” I whispered to my friend.
I wanted you, every bit of you. I was going to get it. In my slightly drunken state, I conjured the balls to approach your sexy self. That smile. I knew how this night was going to end, so did you.
We ditched Sancho’s. Went to some other bar. More whiskey. More smiles. More ass. A make out sesh in the hallway. Taxi. Clothes on the floor. Sloppy sex.
The next morning, I opened my eyes, attempting to register where I was. Fuck, I’m naked. Clothes scattered. I roll over. You.
I got dressed, took a piss, and accessed the damage. Hump hair. Black mascara rings. Bloodshot eyes. Fuck. I crawled back under the covers, waking you up.Hi. I rubbed your back. What time is it?
I called for a ride. Your friend, my friend, our friend. The pissed off friend. We share a smoke in the backyard. Still drunk. Another one to add to the list. Wait, you want my number? Are you sure? I just met and fucked you. I live in my van. I don’t have a secure job. Here.
Sunday. Almost a week before I saw you last. You look exhausted from the weekend. We passed out in your bed, didn’t even cuddle. Why? Was it me? Not knowing how to act around a man ? Or you? Unsure about me.
I drove you to work the next morning. I kept peering over, contemplating if you were digging The Van or not. You get out. No goodbye kiss.
I went with your friends to the “Hillbilly Waterpark”. Friends. What were those? I didn’t have any, consistent ones anyways.
That night, you shared your steak with me. I don’t even like steak, but you were feeding it to me. The act made me grin ear to ear. I couldn’t recall the last time someone feeding me anything except bullshit.
I got sick, maybe it was the steak. I wasn’t in the mood to go out. Stay in my bed, I’ll be home soon. When you did came back, loud and drunk, I pretended to be sleeping. I had actually been up the entire time, cruising Craigslist for jobs in Denver. I wanted to stay.
I woke up the next morning, you had already gone to work. I tiptoed around the house, going back and forth from The Van. Took a scolding hot shower.
I got a phone call from a friend. Come to Colorado Springs now, there’s an RV headed to Illinois for Summer Camp Music Festival. I have no money though. It’s okay, it’ll work out. Another phone call from a friend a few hours later. Can you drive my car from New Orleans to San Diego?
Just so happens you were headed to Summer Camp too. Keep The Van at my house, I’ll see you there.
When I saw you again, you threw your wristband over the fence. We spent the weekend dancing, sharing food, acid trips, and cheap beer. Can you have my babies? I laughed at the idea, not quite sure if you were serious.
The night before I left, we slept in your hammock. My head on your chest, my legs thrown over yours, the stars twinkling above, music in the distance……a scene I’d only ever dreamed about.
You were sleeping when I left the next day. Before I zipped up the tent, I looked at you one last time. I smiled. Who was this guy?
Two weeks before I saw you again. The road took me home for a visit, a plane to New Orleans, a car to San Diego, and a flight back to Denver.
We wasted no time on seeing one another. I met you at your work. You’re lookin’ delicious…you say. We left my bags behind and took a cab to Cervantes.
The feelings were still there, stronger if anything. Your hand grazed my bare back. Shivers up and down my spine. I looked at you, knowing what was going to come next. You pulled me in and we kissed right there, for all to see. We both couldn’t wipe the goofy grins off our faces.
I ordered us whiskey. You courted me to the outside patio. I recognized your friends. Warm hellos. Genuine hellos.
I felt normal. A man by my side, laughing with friends. Denver was beginning to feel like home.
So what do I do? I threw it all away. Naturally. A job offer in Telluride bit me with the travel bug. I was itching everywhere. New adventures. New place. I didn’t quite tell you I was going. I was torn between you and Telluride. I flipped a coin. It was you.
The next day. Friday. The Van wouldn’t start. Batteries fried. We did yard work. Together. A team. We yelled crude jokes to one another, making each other laugh. You guys are nuts….made for each other…your friend says watching us in the front yard.
My bags were still across town & the van was still out of commission. The bus was our only option. As we waited for the bus on Colfax, I wrapped my arms around you. I was cold. You told me to bring a jacket, but I refused. You held me for as long as I wanted. I look up, give you a kiss. We were that couple. The one standing on the corner waiting for the bus wrapped in each other’s arms. I always envied them. I was one of them.
On the bus, I laid my head on your shoulders. This felt nice. I like nice.
We went for ice cream. Your friends shop. So this is what having a boyfriend felt like.
We walked the city, retrieved my bags, and took a cab back to your house.
I had to deal with Van bullshit the next morning.
In the afternoon, we shared shitty Chinese. I silently listened to you share your life with me. He’s letting me in. I’m letting him in. Normal. Scary.
You went to work, I spent the rest of the day getting rides, cabs, dealing with auto parts dudes who didn’t know shit. I was exhausted.
Early Evening. Both of us starving, we headed to Whole Foods. You fed me samples & I couldn’t stop giggling. Let’s make milkshakes. Vanilla ice cream. Chocolate hazelnut biscuit stick things. Chocolate milk. Turtle somethings.
We cuddled on the couch. Watched a movie. You can wash your clothes before you leave. We went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up till four, my mind racing. You. Me. Telluride. Stay. Denver. Van. I ended up passing out on the couch. Our last night. I think you may have been slightly pissed.
Clothes washed. Van packed. Shower. Shittiest goodbye kiss ever. As I pulled away, I couldn’t shake how wrong it felt. Leaving. You. Telluride. Seeing you again.
On my way there, a guy stood in the middle of the road with a gun, blocking both lanes of traffic. I should have turned around then. I didn’t.
I fucked up. I regret leaving. I miss cradling your face in my hands. I miss your lips against mine. I miss you telling me I’m beautiful. I miss splitting smokes. Food. I miss your ass. I miss your long, blonde hair. I miss the way you wear your hat. I miss your bed. I miss sharing ice cream. I miss our talks. I miss your smile. I miss your ugly feet. I miss you snoring. I miss rolling over next to you.
I miss you. I’m sorry.