Oh Joey, I'm not angry anymore...

I honestly have SO much I'd like to write about. I get the hint, though, darling readers and new Lola fans, that ya'll do NOT like when I rant and rave and write like a crazy bitch. Noted. Alright, I will return to the salacious naughtiness you've all come to love from your Lola. So here goes...

I've reconnected with an old...er...ex-boyfriend. He's one of the few exes with whom I had lost touch and was actually sorry for it. He was one of the ones who really sculpted me, who aided in the formation of the woman I am today. It's lovely to know that he's doing well and that he still thinks of me, too. Most of his story I'd like to save for my book, but I figure a short introduction/overview won't hurt...

I met him through Steve. Steve was an acquaintance of mine from college and we had lots of mutual friends. One fateful night, Steve threw a party at the home he shared with...oh, let's call him SR for Steve's Roommate, shall we? I don't remember the first moment I met SR. I know I was having a fairly dramatic time at the party, having gotten into a fight with the boy I was...oh, let's just say the boy I had recently had a one-night-stand with and we had previously hated each other and I don't think either of us quite knew what to do or how to feel about it...I know he left early and that was essentially the end of that. Doesn't matter now, didn't really matter then. What I do remember is that I made my way over to the trash can, full of, well, yes, of course--trash can punch. I remember hands taking my plastic cup and filling it from the sizeable plastic repository of booze and fruit. I remember brushing fingers as I took back my cup. Then I looked up into warm brown eyes, sparkling and fringed with feathery lashes most women would drop a mad amount of money to have. We smiled at each other. I might have done that coquettish thing where I looked down then back up at him through my own envy-inspiring lashes. Then his thumb and forefinger tipped my chin up to his face and he kissed me, right on the lips. I was startled but thrilled and I swear my fingers and toes tingled in that moment. That was also exactly the moment EVERYONE at the party began to hate us. Why? We became attached at the mouth...making out in the back doorway, making out on the front porch, making out in the kitchen, making out on the couch in the living room. It was so ridiculously hot. Throughout what would become years of on-again/off-again togetherness, we never lost the heat. That much was consistent for us.

I don't want to say it was all downhill from there, because I don't really believe that. We had a fantastic time together for several months. But his ex-drama and fear and my immaturity and slight neediness started to get in the way and we ended things. Truth be told, I don't even remember our breakup. It's possible that it never happened, that we just stopped calling, stopped craving each other, stopped wanting to spend time together, and that we eventually just let it all slip away without a fight.

Years passed. I ran into Steve again one evening and asked about SR. I was informed that he was still in-state and single. I gave Steve my number and practically begged him to make SR call me. I guess it didn't take much convincing, because I got a phone call the next day. Long story short, he came to visit me for a long weekend, and all the promise of a new start with our new knowledge but same history proved to be something we both seemed to want but still couldn't figure out how to create. We had a great first date night, mind-blowing reunion sex, and the next day spent time with his family. No sooner did we get back to my apartment than things started going to hell. Things happened, I don't care to get into all the dramatics of it, but suffice it to say another boy was involved, though it was all very innocent (well, then it was, but I will admit things got very...guilty...later in our relationship. But that's for another blog, darling readers...) So we fought some more. Then we tried to put things back to rights. We tried to end the weekend on a happy note. We tried to stay in touch after he returned home. But we once again let things just...fall away...

I know he loved me, in his own way. I hope he knows that I loved him, too, in my own way. But I don't believe we were ever truly in love with each other. I think we wanted to be. Desperately wanted to be. Because all the good was SO SO good. Sadly, it never canceled out all the bad, all the fear, all the indifference, all the disappointment...

Now here we are, years later again, and I think we stand a pretty decent chance of staying friends. Not super close, not besties, not anything dangerous or inappropriate. Just friends with a very long history.

Reminiscently,
Lola

P. S. I also have a new fake boyfriend, but I think I'll save that for another post. This one seems strong enough on its own.