Category Archives: memories

Lonely Memories

Not long after I got home I felt so lonely tonight, it was unbearable. I lay on my bed, thinking sleep would come and tomorrow would be better. There is always something to look forward to tomorrow. But laying on my bed made the loneliness that much more striking.

Then I started wishing the man I want was next to me. I miss him. But there is nothing I can do about that. At some point (hopefully soon), I can just force myself to stop thinking about him, stop fantasizing about what might have been, stop trying to figure out what I did wrong.

I remember the night things ended. I had spent all day yelling at him via text. Oddly enough, even as I continue feeling as though I had done something wrong, I don’t regret saying what I did. I needed to say those things. That evening Sean was around, and I asked him to come out with me. We went out for drinks. He hadn’t replied yet, but I am not stupid. I knew what was coming. And before morning it came.

But it wasn’t my text tirade that did it. Most men are used to that sort of thing occasionally. In fact, by most standards, I am pretty mellow. There must have been something else about me that just didn’t suit him. And that is the part I can’t change. I can apologize for angry texts, but there is no apology for the way I am. This is it. This is what he gets. Take it or leave it. And he left.

It has been a while, and he probably has someone else. As much as I think about him, I try not to think about that. It leads to all sorts of useless thought paths. I just think of him as he was with me.

There must have been a time when he wanted me the way I wanted him. Why else would he have stayed so long? No other explanation makes sense. I still wonder if he thinks about me. Maybe sometimes. Maybe not at all. If ever, I wonder if they are happy memories. I think I brought him joy at one point.

Our relationship was far from normal, but it sort of worked. It would probably work a lot better now. A day late and a dollar short. We didn’t have a compatibility issue (at least not one I was aware of), but seemed to have a massive communication issue. Neither of us communicated very well. Ever. I mean, we talked about things. We talked about so many things. I guess that is one of the things I miss. But I think we both had different ideas about what the other wanted. At least that is the way it sounded. Except I think we both kind of wanted the same thing, just phrased differently, if at all.

One of the things I think he wanted I couldn’t give him at the time. It took him leaving for me to do what I had been too scared to do before. And then it was done, but he was gone. As for the other things he may have wanted? I don’t think I will ever know. And hopefully one day I will stop speculating.

 

Mix Tapes and Photographs

The GRE is tomorrow. I studied a bit today, but I think it is for the best that I stop. So I found ways to keep my mind off of the exam.

I was boxing stuff up and I found an old cigar box with mix tapes. Sean used to make these for me many years ago. This was before iTunes was around, so if you liked one song you had to buy the whole album, and CDs cost about $20 each, and I was working for minimum wage at around $5 an hour (it may have been less than that, but I don’t remember exactly). I still can’t listen to B-52’s Roam without thinking of Sean and those tapes. I remember one of them had the Cranberries on it. Van Halen on a third. Nirvana was either one of the same tapes, or accompanying something else.

The tapes are old, and their boxes are long lost, hence I have no idea what any of them contain. I also have no way of playing them. My car at the time was the reason for the tapes. I was driving a Daewoo that had a tape player, but no CD player. So instead of making me mix CDs he made me tapes. I used to drive a lot and I liked my music.

In fact I remember driving with Sean late one night. I was blasting Blondie, singing along to One Way or Another, and we were looking for something to eat. We ended up at the In and Out on Ventura (and something). Maybe I am conflating memories, but I think this was right after he had gotten his tattoo of the barcode. The skin was still raised, and I was playing with it. I had never seen a fresh tattoo before.

One time we sat in a parking lot listening to the Roam tape. We didn’t really have the same taste in music so he wanted to get out and walk. As we walked across the lot he found a little kitty charm someone must have dropped. He picked it up and gave it to me. I put it on my purse. Packing up more stuff I found that purse, and the charm is still attached. A gold kitty with a pink ribbon.

I also found the cigar box with old floppy disks. These I knew I had. I vaguely remember what is on them – dozens of pictures Tanya took when we were in high school. A lot of them have pictures of the cats and kittens I had at my parents’ house. Some pictures of me and Tanya doing random things. And there are a few of them from the time Tanya and I went to a shop and she had me try on all sorts of wigs. I haven’t seen these pictures in well over a decade, but I can say with certainty that neon hair does not suit me. If I remember correctly there are several pictures of me wearing a glittery green wig, followed by a pink shimmery one, and about half a dozen others in quick succession.

I wonder what else I will find.

 

Reliving Memories

That last time I spoke with my dad I told him about the kids, and I could see his face light up at the prospect of seeing them again. Then I realize that my kids will never get to know my dad. Ally will have vague memories, but Ducky won’t even have those.

When they get older I will show them the things he wrote, and the things that were written about him. I will show them the few pictures I have. And I will share with them my own memories. But these are only parts of him. There is so much more that they will never know, and that makes me incredibly sad. You can never really know another person, but you can get to know them, and they won’t have that opportunity. He was an amazing man, a great father, and he would have made a wonderful grandfather. In fact, in the short time he had with the kids, he did make a wonderful grandfather.

I remember how he used to chase them around the living room, take them outside for walks around the neighborhood, buy them chocolates and then feign ignorance when they refused to eat their dinner. I remember all the things he has done for me, too many to enumerate. One day I will detail them all out, and relive them on paper, but for now I will just let them scamper through my head, fragmented.