got a postcard from my Good Friend Ria today. she’s joining the Peace Corps. i worship her for that fact. think i’ll call her tonight. i’m supposed to be going on a roadtrip w/ my grandfather soon, and we’ll be in St. Louis. i really don’t want to go, but if i do, then i can see her at least. it will be the last time for a long while.
background: we used to date about 5 years ago. she was my last girlfriend. i remember it started as a really sweet romance. when we first met, we never really talked by ourselves, and then one day she told me she liked this comic book i had done. i was stunned that she even remembered it and that it was me who did it. a few months later, she asked me to go to Europe with her (actually, i was a bit of a last resort). so we became fast friends and hung out a LOT. in Europe, i of course fell for her, and proceeded to make an ass of myself because of it. she had a boyfriend in San Diego at the time. she read my journal in Paris after we had been there for more than a week together, and found out.
things weren’t the same for a little while. i’m still not entirely sure how she really felt about it, but we somehow managed to do some weird things like visiting the Parisian sex shops together, and planned on going to see a show at the Moulin Rouge (which never happened – i think we chickened out… i seem to recall her saying something like it might not be a great idea to get all worked up and horny, and me agreeing with great relief!).
in Munich i got way too drunk at the Hofbrau Haus and ended up stumbling home in the darkness somehow (lost of course, but i have a bird’s sense of direction and velocity when i’m drunk). i fell asleep at the doorstep of the hostel and she came and fetched me, and ended up cradling me in her arms and whispering sweet, sweet things to me that night.
in Vienna we found ourselves with an overbooked Eurobus, and had to take a train to Prague. i had a lousy birthday the night before, and after playing drinking games on the floor of the train station with vodka-and-Fanta-orange screwdrivers, we got into a heated fight over nothing (completely my stoopid drunk-ass fault) (seriously), and i made her nearly try to push me out of the train (while it was going at full tilt!) …my sweet, dear friend Paola (how i miss her!) came to me and told me she loved me and was so sweet that night and i set my hair on fire accidentally. we didn’t speak for a little while. the second or third night, we all got a nice big suite in the Czech hostel and it was more or less arranged that her and i would be sleeping together in the bigger room. so we ended up talking again, although it was a little strained at first.
i had to stay behind to wait on a cash wire from the states, as i hadn’t enough money to continue, so we met again in Amsterdam. don’t remember much from then, except for nearly getting into a couple of fights with some hustlers and junkies. and getting hustled pretty badly for $100.
back in Paris, we got drunk and climbed the Eiffel. somehow got separated, and i think i may have urinated on the steps about halfway up (oops!! je suis désolé, France…). i got lost again and walked back. more bad drunkenness. ended up giving her one of my patented, trademark back massages. for those who don’t know, they tend to not be the most platonic of affairs. the last night we went to renew our room, and she tried to get us a single. they were out. je vous maudis, pension française mauvaise!
god only knows what would have happened that night, but i sometimes like to wonder about it…
back in america, we spent not so much time together, until one night, she called me wanting to come over and hang out. when she arrived, she was all dolled up and wearing makeup and everything.
that was a Good Night.
she had dumped her boyfriend, and come to fetch me.
but she didn’t believe in love then, and it didn’t last; although it was very romantic and sweet at first.
