The 21st

Twenty years, and we still don't greet each other happy anniversary not because we forget, though we don't really make an effort to remember, but because even if we want to, we don't know when exactly we started this journey together.

Twenty years ago, you had one extra tooth just above your incisor and canine. Your two upper front teeth had a gap that could fit a coin. And you barely opened your mouth to smile. Monster teeth, I called you.

Now, your smile's perfect. I sometimes forget it is, and how hideous it used to be. It's frightening to realize how much you have changed but haven't at the same time.
You bored me. Your idea of hanging out is drinking beer in silence. Quiet, but my frustration's so loud in my head I had had to say, you bore me. You replied, my topics are uninteresting. 

Over the years, you have learned to develop opinions on politics and people. We have even come up with inside jokes that weren't really funny, but would make us both burst to laughter. Though sometimes your argument seemed devoid of logic, you're now able to articulate ideas that challenge mine. It's irritating how sometimes they make sense.

Your spontaneity used to frustrate me. During travels, you like to explore. I just want to go by what I know, since I don't want to waste time. You said, that's what adventures are all about. I let you win.

You have forced me to see the things that I shouldn't like about myself. It's strange because all romance stories talk about how one is supposed to make the other feel better or be a better version of themselves. Blech.

So, to at least have a mark on my calendar each year, and a reason to make you buy me coffee, I texted, "It could be the 21st of Jan!" You replied, "why?", after fifteen minutes.

Well, it was a Saturday twenty years ago, and that's when we first kissed and then some...

You replied back, hmmf.

Clocks and Courage

You said good morning, and there's nothing else that came to mind but mountains to hike under the canopies of trees, onto the peak where sea of clouds roll, hiding the ocean below the horizon. 

Then, I say, in jest, "Of course, why woudn't it be?" You chuckled, and said something I no longer heard. Your words drowned by the sound of my beating heart.

***

It rained, I was about to open my small umbrella, and I heard you say from behind, I think I lost mine. We could share, I answered, but, it might not be enough for both of us. You asked if it would be ok, and I thought on that Christmas village, refreshingly cold. With a steaming cappuccino in my hands, I walk through the snow-covered streets of the village, and you, next to me. 

Friday Buzz

Disillusionment shatters one's world view and comes in strange forms. Mine was from a Friday buzz, and thinking spirits are out on the streets to get me.

-* -
I was at a bar, and was just about to leave after downing 6 bottles of beer and 3 plates of snacks. It was not that it was getting late but that everything has become an autostereogram,  and an image is beginning to form. It was an angry Jesus telling me I had had more than my usual four bottles. Also, even in my happy state, it was getting unbearable having a few stares toward my direction, because who would be drinking alone at a bar?

In that split second of  clarity, I had made a decision to head home. But not before doing another " bottoms up" for the road. The walk  to my place would take another 15 mins and it would be difficult to outrun the stray dogs when I could not feel my face.