black coffee and cigarettes

It would be so easy to forget the things in life that we should be grateful for.  It would be so easy to sleep until late in the afternoon.  Shut the lights. Turn off the phone.  Forget to return the phone calls of the ones who love us the most. Dwell on the relationships that we do not have and mourn the ones we have lost.  It would be so easy to think “I can’t.  I won’t.  It just won’t work.”  It takes courage to face each day with a smile on your face.  Await challenges and face your obstacles.  It takes courage to ask, “What’s next?” and have faith that the answer means better things are coming.  After all, life is an occasion that we all need to rise to if we only have the courage to show up.

We sat on the couch, post coitus.  Silent.  Not touching.  I had on my favorite grey fleece robe.  He sat on my tan sueded couch in only his boxer shorts.  None to my pleasure.  I have a thing against stains.

TVs on.   Who knows what we’re watching. sports, a sit-com, the evening news?  Then a commercial comes on and I say,  ”Hey, let’s go see a movie next weekend.”  Without missing a beat, “Yeah, December is a busy month for me.”

In disbelief, I turn to face him.  Silently, I struggle to change my mood from red to blue.  Then, I start to rationalize.  Understandable, its the holidays. There’s a party every other day it seems.  Then a realization dawns on me.  This is a mistake.  I wonder if he comprehends how horribly awful his response sounded.  What kind of man makes the time to screw you, but is too inconvenienced to go to a movie?  So I become…..confrontational.

I pick up my clothes from the floor and he asks, “Are you in a hurry?”  ”What does that mean the month of December is a really busy month for you?” I ask.  ”Going to the movies seems like moving forward in a direction I’m not sure I want to go in.”  ”Since when”, I ask, “is going to the movies too much of a commitment?”

In my much younger years, I partied way too hard. (Well not that much younger).  Often times starting out the evening with friends, then somewhere along the way losing them in the fray.  We started a trend of meeting up the morning after for breakfast.  Over coffee and cigarettes we would recount our individual evenings of debauchery and mayhem.  Each story beginning with “well after I lost you….”  Well, many years later, friends part ways, grow up and find new hobbies, but in their memory I will continue their tradition of sharing my misadventures in the form of missives.  Hope you enjoy.