A Need To Purge The Memory(ies) - Good, Bad, Horrific, and Otherwise

As promised M, here's the back story on the Drunk Dialer.

A little background on me, first, I think. I was something of a late bloomer when it came to boys. First kiss was at 15, first REAL kiss was the summer before my Senior year and was a bit confusing. (Yes, there's a back story there, too, but that's one for another day. And no, it wasn't a girl, so keep your minds out of the gutter!! lol) I also lost my virginity the summer before my Senior year. It was literally with "the boy next door." Okay, the boy across the street and down a few houses. And yeah, he was the football star, and in the band, and choir and drama and and and ...... and I remember being so amazed that he "liked" me too. And, of course, there were complications. He was dating someone else. And one of my best good friends had a GINORMOUS crush on him. (LK from the bottom of my heart, I am so very sorry I did that to you. I wouldn't have done that to one of my girlfriends and so I don't know why I didn't know it wasn't okay to do that to you. This one falls in the horrific category.)

And so, immediately afterwards, I was branded a slut. And I guess I spent the next several years doing my damnedest to live up to that label. I think I accomplished that and then some. But, I digress.

The first time I set eyes upon my Drunk Dialer (DD), he was moving out of his house and divorcing his wife. The only reason I was there was because I was chasing after one of the guys (also married) that was helping D.D. move out. No idea who he was, didn't care, but I was a girl and I was there and someone identified me and so that was really all the psycho ex-wife needed to know to decide that I was REALLY after D.D.

A couple of weeks later, we were all at the Corner Bar and I noticed the D.D. noticing me. And he was kinda cute, in a goofy sort of way - tall, skinny, MaGoo glasses - but he had a great smile and a nice laugh and every muscle on him was rock hard. And we flirted a little. But I got run out of the bar by the one ass hole in the bar who gave a crap that I wasn't 21. And that was that.

Until one night a few weeks later. I'm out cruising (an activity that apparently no one engages in anymore - sad really. So many good times!!) and he's out cruising and we pass each other a few times and I wave and smile a few times and then he stops. And when I drove by again, he waved me over to stop and talk. And I did. And then we cruised together for a while and then......the psycho ex-wife spotted us together. And chased us and tried to run us off the road and ended up running her own car into the ditch.

Yeah. That should have been the only clue I needed to RUN in the OPPOSITE direction.

But no. Tell me I can't have something and I just want it all the more.

So we kept seeing each other. Kept sneakin' around. We spent many a hot summer night in the little attic room he had at his buddy's house. And by that fall we were living together. And I was head over heels in love with him. We both made promises that we ended up not keeping. And the psycho bitch made life a living hell for me.

Was it worth it? I don't know. I know he was my first TRUE, REAL, DEEP love and that never really goes away. I know I'm not the scared little girl I was 20 years ago. I know I've been through 20 years of crazy shit and that changes a person. I'm sober. And THAT is definitely different. I know I'm all stocked up on crazy these days and don't really need anymore. What good would it do to go back there? I think it would just fan the flames of the fire I'm already going down in.

Even still. Here I sit with my phone open, his number on the screen. All I need to do is push talk.