Monday, November 1, 2010

“It’s nice to have someone to eat chicken wings with”

That's what he said.

No longer chasing guitar players and firemen, now rarely ducking into little bars and dives in search of live local music. No more online meet-ups and greet-ups. I miss that girl and the attention she got. But maybe I've simply stopped running about because she found good stuff at home, a cozy home that always smells good. And to quote Clueless, “My party clothes are so binding.”

Spent Saturday night in leggings and a tank (no underwires) and a snuggly much-too-big zip hoodie on his couch munching chicken wings and nachos. Being All Hallows Eve eve, we watched Zombie Strippers, a silly and groan-worthy, not-porn romp starring Jenna Jameson. I nearly lost it when she loaded up her zombie hooch with pool balls to shoot at a rival zombie stripper. You read that right. Later a documentary we’d queued on Netflix, one of my choices. Then we all curled up together, him and me and the dog and the cat and slept. Slept until almost 10 a.m. Then he took me for Sunday brunch.

A friend recently wrote about “the middle,” the part of the relationship past the flutter, the courting, the crazy sex, the lingering dinners. The middle moves the two of you into edging towards arguments, or coming home to a dog who's been sick in his kennel. Or job or family or health worries. Or being brave enough to ask, "Are you happy with me?"

“Middles are life,” she said.

And her words made me think about the hand always looking for mine to hold and not seeing the extra 15 on me and the latte every morning I wake up there and falling asleep during almost every movie watched.

Sometimes it’s nice to just have someone to eat chicken wings with.

4 comments:

Peau said...

You said it better than I.

I'm happy for you.

Jodie Kash said...

I disagree, given "Middles are life" stuck the way it did.

Middles are life.

Don said...

Both of you, Jodie and Peau, wrote and helped me see why my (ex) wife is in such continuous grieving. She had me in a long beautiful stretch of middles, and it was mostly good. She is sad every day that I am gone and that it is over with nothing to fill the space.

I really ripped her open when I pulled away. But I wasn't really in it, hadn't for, I dunno, six to ten years, I'm just really really good at accepting what is as being good enough and suppressing the inner voices that hunger for more of life. Finally stopped suppressing and now my life feels more real and more full and more genuine, but hers? Ripped out in the middle, and that makes me sad every day too.

Jodie Kash said...

I love how brave your words are.

Not the same person I met years ago. YearS ago now, can you believe it? Where we both were then. It's interesting to see this evolve. Hear you evolve.

Both of you, really.

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