Remember that time you were driving me home on a beautiful, warm, sunny day in April? You let me pick a song and it felt really intimate scrolling through your playlists. I was a little nervous to choose but I found one that was just right. We turned the volume up, rolled the windows down. We sang and danced along. That moment is seared into my memory because it felt right, like we were on the same page. We were having fun. We weren’t worried about our futures. Right? Or was it just me? Do you remember what I’m talking about?
We were coming back from that hotel on the beach. I’ll never not think about you if I ever go back there. That stupid, little hotel where it felt like we were on vacation but really we were just escaping from reality together for a while. That hotel where sat together for hours talking about all the things that mattered to us.
Remember the first time we went? When we ran into that woman who ran an alumni association for the school we went to as kids? You paid for lunch because you’d lost our usual bet. I can’t remember if at some point you said it was a date. There were drinks involved and you kissed me by the pool. It felt like a date. It was warm and I could hear the ocean. We were there for 5 hours or something ridiculous like that and I had trouble getting back into my house after you dropped me off because I couldn’t remember the code to the garage. I was flustered. You surprised me.
Can you blame me?
But what’s the point in reminiscing? It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever we were wasn’t the real thing and now it’s not anything. Sure, it might make for a good story but who’s reading? Who cares?
Me. I care. Ok, there I said it. I still care about you and I wish so badly that I didn’t. I make myself miserable wondering what you were (or are) thinking at any given moment. I’m really good at it. I tell myself to get over it, to stop replaying the memories in my mind but I’m really bad at it. Not to say I haven’t tried. I am constantly trying and constantly failing. It annoys me. I hate it. I hate that as I’m hurtling 611 mph at 37,000 ft above ground, I happen to pick a movie that reminds me a lot of us and suddenly, I’m back wishing for times gone by.