Thursday, April 3, 2008

Bad dreams.

No more sour cream and a baked potato before bed. I just woke up from a too real to be true dream that M. and I were friends again, that he was giving me a bad time in a forest somewhere while I tested out a remote control car that I'd built.

That type of shit'll kill ya for sure.

More distance, the clearer you see things. I want my friend back, the one at the end of the hallway where I ran through light rooms and dark, doors opened and closed to throw myself into his sheepskin coated self after he'd been gone for weeks. I'd never been so loved on a January morning, sometimes doubt I will be again. Tendon and bone.

Some dynamic changed between us when I started putting on girl clothes and kept them on as more than an experiment. Oh, I never left the cargo pants behind, and my closet always has stocked more from the Men's Department at J.Crew than the women's. Let's just say my clothes started to fit better after he started dating L, part of a process that had started with glacial slowness in 2005. Even later when tensions would slightly lessen and I'd try and play around in the classroom with M., he would stand with his arms folded and narrow his eyes, refusing while balls of yarn danced off his head. He was trying to tell me something, but what?

Why didn't he want to play any more? He would play around with the other assistants in my room. Yes, I predicted a disastrous outcome to his relationship, but girls are girls and frankly the one he picked couldn't carry a relationship with handles and IKEA instructions. We both knew it- hell, he liked 'em semi-permanent that way. I was still the same underneath the clothes!

Maybe the change wasn't in my clothes after all. Maybe the change was when we came to words instead of hair pulling and kicking and cigarettes to resolve the only conflict we ever had, and the clothes came to fit. Talk about "You can't go home again"- If I had done like I should have at the time, kicked him in the balls and made an end of it and then stayed out of it, maybe we'd be in a forest somewhere playing with remote control cars.

What ifs. God, no more food before bed.

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