here today

 

i am not twenty anymore

So on New Year's, when Ben & I found ourselves at 3:30 in the morning, two miles from home, preparing to walk, I took a hard look at my life.  Which was not easy, considering how very much champagne I'd consumed over the previous 7 hours.  I took a hard look and saw Ben in G's grandmother's crocheted hat, me with N's purple tennies, yoga pants and holding a vodka bottle filled with water so we wouldn't, you know, get dehydrated on the walk.

At that point in the evening, it was much too difficult to call a cab and try to remember my address so I told Ben we should walk.  And since Ben had started doing shots of Kahlua at midnight, he was ready to follow me anywhere so long as I didn't try to touch G's hat. 

New year's miracle:  The cab driver who appeared on Ainsworth street at 3:30am looking for "Jack".  Without him, I'm pretty sure Ben would have ended up sleeping in someone's lawn & I would have ended up two towns over, a big smile on my face.  

I am not twenty anymore.  But on Friday night, I drank like I was twenty.  And it was really good times.  The girls traded shoes, I smoked two cigarettes, and became obsessed with remembering everyone's rising signs (there were quite a lot of Scorpios there).  And pointing.  N became a five foot high Bette Davis in her grandmother's handmade Swiss silk shirt telling me that she would be a lesbian except for the fact that she likes dick.  I like dick, she kept saying, ruefully, as she tried on my heels.

And the ex-best friend and I remembered why we loved each other and, at least for one night, forgot about the past, hugged and laughed until we cried.

it was worth the hangover.  and I hardly ever say that.

Posted by: 120pages at 15:41 | link | comments (2) |