Monday, December 3, 2007
“Those were the days.”
The EX-ROOMIE and I took a little trip down memory lane this past weekend and ended up at our old “haunt.”
Still full of the ghosts we’d remembered. (Peter Pan, Mami-Man, and the rest of the gang whose nicknames aren’t quite PG13 enough for this blog).
But where I once found shame and boredom in the musty smell of booze and sweat, I discovered something different this past Friday night.
As we ordered our second drinks...
She asked for them “weaker,” while the familiar bartender assumed she said “bigger.”
And as I soberly walked into the bathroom...
I thought of all those times I made fast friends with the girl fussing over her hair next to me while I haphazardly applied my lip gloss.
The familiar faces caused no discomfort or disgrace.
The wooden planks were simply walls and floors, not acquainted ledges to jump from.
And in spite of myself, I ached for the days when that was enough.
When fun was enough.
When distraction wasn’t weighted down with regret.
When “our bar” was the place we haunted…
Rather than the place that now haunts me.