February 11, 2004

passage rite

2/11/04

Realize this: you have been kissing a girl long enough that a phone call is expected every day. Skipping a night brings a tiny vacuum to the stomach. You might have made some pact like "you can have sex someone else, but only if you tell me the story later." It relieves a little of the pressure, but imagining your genitalia inside someone else? Seems like your heart or some piece of you that still has moral certitude from grade school won't allow it.

You might kiss someone else, though, long after it would have been kosher. It will be the last kiss you ever have from the other world, and it will occur late at night, when both of you have been drinking, probably a quick grasp at a body part, because after this, you will never know that feeling again.

The weird part: that's okay. The things you thought you could never abandon become half-thoughts shrugged off in seconds. You will keep your place, with your roommate; after all, there still needs to be separation. You might even sleep there from time to time, forcing yourself "home." It seems unnatural, but that's where your stuff is, after all.

Occasionally, you will revert to sudden bouts of bachelorism, a night in the rain with a barbaric yawp that ends with a pounding headache and a full glass of cold water. You have two toothbrushes, two pairs of clean underwear, two sets of running shoes: one for each place. Slowly, all the good stuff migrates to her house.

You have to break the news to your roommate, but in your myopia, you forget that he has seen it coming, and has made arrangements. Your last night in this apartment has already passed, weeks ago.

You have one more hurdle, and one huge argument. It will be the hardest thing for you to give up. You will have second thoughts, because nothing in life worth doing comes without an unsettling dose of ambivalence. What happens that night, or in those two weeks, will determine whether or not you gain entrance into a dizzying and scary new world.

Some people turn around. You know who they are, you've seen them everywhere. You swore, somewhere, you wouldn't be one of them. I wish you luck.

Posted by irw at February 11, 2004 10:43 PM
Comments
Posted by: Salem at February 12, 2004 3:05 PM

O.K. I am thinking back to our roommate years together, I don't ever remember you under the influence of anything stronger than a Purple Woo Woo. Is there a chance you smoked a few pounds of Afghani hash before sitting down to write todays entry?

Posted by: Ian at February 12, 2004 10:52 PM


Oh, I think there are some folks out there who know what I was going for.

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