“No, babe, you shouldn’t wear that shirt anymore.”
I hate when girls tell me what to do, but in that very moment, it felt good, like an S&M gagged slave obey his master….Well, maybe not exactly like that, but I had no problems parting with that t-shirt. And those of you calling me a little bitch right now would stop if you’d seen the girl that answered me. We laid in each other’s arm, lost in our own thoughts; the silence made us smile and our touch reassured that we were still thinking of each other. Well, I was anyways. Who knows, she may have been already planning her escape. I thought of how perfect my life was; how all the books that have made me who I am, leaned on my shelves, proud like parents are on their kid’s graduation day. My hard wood floor, bare as we were, covered in nothing more than the clothes we had on only 5 minutes ago….I mean, 2 hours ago (yeah…I’m a sex machine. What’s up ladies?). My vinyl records stacked ever so neatly, while the record player speakers buzzed, yearning for the touch of Ray LaMontange’s Trouble waxed record. I looked in her beautiful eyes and thought, “We’re all exactly where we’re suppose to be aren’t we?”
Fast forward to right now and you'll find me laying in the exact spot as then, haunted by the drunken night before, staring at a suitcase from weeks ago, half unpacked, the other half on the hard wood floor along with everything I wore for the last week. My vinyl records are scattered beneath any and every piece of furniture, probably keeping my guitar and hats company. The books that once praised my lifestyle now wilt with age and slouch just a bit more than usual. The ‘cheers to being single’ t-shirt peaks out from the back of my closet as if it were a long lost friend that, through extensive research had found my address and come knocking on my door. This red shirt is usually a sight for sore eyes, or in past cases, sore hearts, but not this time. I tried it on days before and it never felt right. Maybe it shrunk in the dryer or maybe I just got fatter. Probably both. I looked into the eyes of my dog Maggy as she builds a fort of the unfolded blankets and thought, “We’re all exactly where we’re suppose to be aren’t we?” She ignores me and continues making her fort.
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