The Inevitable Lamenting Feeling of Being Home Alone with No Burglars to Thwart

I met this girl once, I was supposed to be training her at this coffee shop we worked at but all I did was end up falling in love with her before the first customer showed up. I fall in love with every girl I meet, though, so at first I didn’t think that much of it. She ended up having a boyfriend and I ended up hanging around her every day anyway, we would talk and flirt and act ridiculous together, but somewhere between second guesses and unrelentless shyness I never said anything to her.

She eventually broke up with her boyfriend, about two weeks after I had gotten another girl pregnant. I married that one, and we got divorced before our second anniversary. So the other girl eventually showed up out of nowhere, with stories about sleeping in tents in Europe and still looking immaculate and staring at me like she had all of that time ago and I remembered just how very wonderful it all felt.

We talked everyday for about three months, but only saw each other twice, as our states began and ended with different syllables. She had big plans of moving out west to become famous and amazing. I have a kid. She’s supposed to be moving there anyday now, what with it being nearly 2005. I miss her incredibly. I had this idea that I would move to Nevada and convince her to stay with me for awhile until I could figure something out wherever it was she wanted to be. Then I didn’t get the job in Nevada. Then George Bush was re-elected. Then I never heard from her again.


Television is an evil empire, bent on having us believe wonderful stories of love and coincidence and happy endings. Eddie Vedder and Chris Cornell are sitting around telling me about how things will all work out in the end, reminding me of plaid and ripped jeans and the last time I felt like this. It took me about four years to get over that one, just about the time I met this girl.

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