“You get so upset over nothing!” she screamed as she slammed the car door behind her.
“Lisa get back in the car! It’s starting to rain.” I called after her as I slowly drove beside her. It’s surprising how quickly a conversation can escalate to the point where your girlfriend feels the need to get out of your car and start walking down the side of a country road; miles from anything other than a road side sweet corn stand that had more spider webs then the underside of a sandbox.
I guess it all started when my girlfriend Lisa and I decided to go on a little road trip down to Montréal. We had both just turned 18 and we had planned to go to a few bars and live the underage dream of cigarettes and booze. Of course we didn’t take into account that her ex-boyfriend Brad would call me slurring a symphony of drunken truths; like how when I was away with my family in Costa Rica, Lisa paid him a “very friendly” visit which I was totally unaware of until about five minutes ago. So as I drove slowly along side my now pending girlfriend pleading her to get back into the car but thinking about how good it would feel just to step on the gas and leave her to the roadside cobweb shelter.
I hadn’t even gotten that mad really, I thought I reacted quite well for a man who had just gotten the ultimate kick in the balls from karma or fate or from whatever lead my girlfriend to Brad’s house, while I was learning that orange Fanta looks the same going down as it does going back up. But of course she instantly started to spew out excuses like she was five and had just stomped all over her mother new flower garden, except the difference was she was 18 and had just stomped all over my heart. What she did was unforgivable but I found the fear of being alone overcame my reason and I needed her back, I couldn’t let her walk down that country road and out of my life. I couldn’t go back to the single life where rejection was a day to day routine like eating or breathing, I couldn’t give up the feeling of being in love even if that meant giving up my dignity or at least what was left of it. I felt like stopping and getting out my pen and left over napkins to start making a list of pros vs. Cons or whys and why nots; pro: singing Bohemian Rhapsody on our way to friends places (no music necessary). Con: shaving my beard because “when I kiss you it’s like kissing a bear.” Which Lisa so gently told me after are first kiss. Con: her parents still think I’m her gay friend. Pro: the star watching atop my car while we whispered I love you even though nobody was around. My mind was filling up with so many conflicting thoughts of hate and passion.
“I hate loving you!” I screamed “I hate that even though you’ve broken my heart the memories we have keep trying to put it back together.” Lisa stopped in her tracks “What are you even talking about?” she said without turning to face the car.
“I’m talking about the time my parents were away and you stayed the night, I’m talking about the time when I held you after you had fought with your parents, I’m talking about what’s important.” Finally Lisa turned to face me; she was crying and had mascara running down her face. “I hate loving you too.” she said. I raced out of the car and into her warm embrace and as we kissed I felt the first drops of rain hit my face.
“Lisa get back in the car! It’s starting to rain.” I called after her as I slowly drove beside her. It’s surprising how quickly a conversation can escalate to the point where your girlfriend feels the need to get out of your car and start walking down the side of a country road; miles from anything other than a road side sweet corn stand that had more spider webs then the underside of a sandbox.
I guess it all started when my girlfriend Lisa and I decided to go on a little road trip down to Montréal. We had both just turned 18 and we had planned to go to a few bars and live the underage dream of cigarettes and booze. Of course we didn’t take into account that her ex-boyfriend Brad would call me slurring a symphony of drunken truths; like how when I was away with my family in Costa Rica, Lisa paid him a “very friendly” visit which I was totally unaware of until about five minutes ago. So as I drove slowly along side my now pending girlfriend pleading her to get back into the car but thinking about how good it would feel just to step on the gas and leave her to the roadside cobweb shelter.
I hadn’t even gotten that mad really, I thought I reacted quite well for a man who had just gotten the ultimate kick in the balls from karma or fate or from whatever lead my girlfriend to Brad’s house, while I was learning that orange Fanta looks the same going down as it does going back up. But of course she instantly started to spew out excuses like she was five and had just stomped all over her mother new flower garden, except the difference was she was 18 and had just stomped all over my heart. What she did was unforgivable but I found the fear of being alone overcame my reason and I needed her back, I couldn’t let her walk down that country road and out of my life. I couldn’t go back to the single life where rejection was a day to day routine like eating or breathing, I couldn’t give up the feeling of being in love even if that meant giving up my dignity or at least what was left of it. I felt like stopping and getting out my pen and left over napkins to start making a list of pros vs. Cons or whys and why nots; pro: singing Bohemian Rhapsody on our way to friends places (no music necessary). Con: shaving my beard because “when I kiss you it’s like kissing a bear.” Which Lisa so gently told me after are first kiss. Con: her parents still think I’m her gay friend. Pro: the star watching atop my car while we whispered I love you even though nobody was around. My mind was filling up with so many conflicting thoughts of hate and passion.
“I hate loving you!” I screamed “I hate that even though you’ve broken my heart the memories we have keep trying to put it back together.” Lisa stopped in her tracks “What are you even talking about?” she said without turning to face the car.
“I’m talking about the time my parents were away and you stayed the night, I’m talking about the time when I held you after you had fought with your parents, I’m talking about what’s important.” Finally Lisa turned to face me; she was crying and had mascara running down her face. “I hate loving you too.” she said. I raced out of the car and into her warm embrace and as we kissed I felt the first drops of rain hit my face.
Lovely!
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