Easy to forget
My first apartment was built in the early 1900’s. It was a studio, with a tiny granny’s kitchen and a bathroom that you reached by walking through my closet. It was small, but in a high rent area. Hardwood floors and a murphy bed. I could open every window on my second floor apartment and leave them open all night long. The cool San Diego air would blow my sheer curtains in billows making ghost shadows against the whiteness of the walls.
Street noise would filter in, but it was the sound of commerce and companionship. The sounds of people leaving the chic cafes and antique stores that flanked my charming little building and made parking impossible on a saturday. I could lie half awake in the gray hours of the morning and hear laughter, smell flowers and the music of passing cars. The constant lifeflow directly below my windows pulsed through my veins. Even the veins slightly scarred from life.
I had gone through special pains to make him dinner. This person who was my friend, who I’d slept with. I was still trying to figure that part out. How we had been drinking wine and listening to bjork- and awoke tangled in sheets and limbs and ohfuckinghellwhatjusthappened?
He knocked on the door and showed himself in, as he always did. All 6′3″ of him filling my doorway. He moved in dark elegance. Latin and dark eyed he was my polar opposite. We never crossed words, while talking for hours. He laced his fingers through mine absent mindedly.
And yet.
When he left that night we both knew our friendship was over. Whatever experiment we had been taking part in had been sullied and my vulnerability made me less to him. I could see it in the way he looked at me. He crossed foot over my threshold and never came back. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t think of calling him. Of telling him all of the putrid, rotting thoughts that spilled into my journals about myself. To do that desperate thing that we sometimes do when we are 22 and stupid.
Three weeks later he called me.
I was stunned.
My heart thumped in my chest as I heard his voice, but my hopes were quickly dashed. As he spoke these words:
“Your phone number was in my address book, and I was trying to remember who this is.”
I sat in stunned silence, then said simply one word.
“Tallulah.”
June 19th, 2008 at 10:51 pm
Oh ouch.
so beautifully written it pained me.
June 20th, 2008 at 12:00 am
This made me want to run as far from my 20s as possible. Ouch. And…I remember that feeling, after.
Gorgeous writing, girl.
June 20th, 2008 at 3:53 am
Oh honey. I know this, God I know this. The story was beautiful, even cloaked in barb.
June 20th, 2008 at 3:54 am
I like what Jennifer said here. My mouth is still hanging open after what you said. I’ll hold myself back from making generalizations about men ’cause I KNOW it’s not true, but I’m feeling a whole bag of rancid toward men of that time right now…men of your/my twenties. OK – him… And yes, how can I say how beautiful this is?
June 20th, 2008 at 5:27 am
I absolutely love these beautifully crafted peeks into your life (whether it be from the past or present).
I would not doubt one bit if now, in this dude’s adult life, he doesn’t look back on that moment and kick himself- hard. Sometimes the wisdome(or 20/20 hindsight) one gains as one gets older makes you look back on your past and think, wtf was I thinking!? That is my wish for him.
oh, and not to be totally obtuse or nosey (though Im now being both). What is “Tallulah”?
June 20th, 2008 at 5:41 am
{sigh} I hate that a certain amount of armor is required when dealing with the opposite sex. We all have to pass through this for some reason, maybe so we learn how to protect ourselves?
I love the description of your apartment. It sounds so perfect. I bet it was hard to move from there.
June 20th, 2008 at 5:54 am
I was too cautious to put myself out there so bravely. Although I can feel your hurt feelings, you spun them beautifully in this piece, my Tullulah.
June 20th, 2008 at 6:09 am
seriously, that’s some sharp wit. and that guy? haven’t we all made dinner for the same jerk at one point or another? sisterhood is sisterhood in so many degrees.
June 20th, 2008 at 6:17 am
Ouch is right. My first real love was a jerk who then called me a few weeks after we broke up. I wish I’d had a sharp response for him, but I was still nursing such a broken heart. I think I hung up on him, though.
June 20th, 2008 at 6:20 am
Well, see, I was going to compliment your ability to put a laser beam on that moment when everything changes and there’s that empty wondering. But everyone else noticed it too — because of the laser beam writing talent, you see.
June 20th, 2008 at 6:26 am
Oh, damn. Kind of heartbreaking, there, Flutter, and not only because it’s familiar.
June 20th, 2008 at 7:03 am
This made me shudder. I guess because it felt so real – and familiar too. My 20’s were filled with so many stupid things…but I guess we are who we are because of our past (trite, but true).
I love you writing…glad I found your blog.
June 20th, 2008 at 7:25 am
This was painful to read. And by saying that I am telling you it was so well written it hurt.
June 20th, 2008 at 7:44 am
Oh THAT. But your end? Classic.
June 20th, 2008 at 8:13 am
OH…this reminds me of so many painful and awkward times in my life while trying to figure out who I am, and what I deserved…Life is so bittersweet sometimes isn’t it? And damn girl. Good quick thinking on the name…I don’t know if I would have thought of something so funny so quick…
June 20th, 2008 at 8:30 am
“Come and see Tallulah, we can chase your troubles away . . . ”
Or are you referring to Tallulah Bankhead.
Maybe it’s because I’m a guy, but the reference is escaping me . . .
Yet another beautiful, descriptive piece. My god, I hate envy . . .
June 20th, 2008 at 8:37 am
oh ouch, dude.
wtf. who does that?
who calls someone they “don’t remember” to say, Hi. Um Who are you?”
I mean….really?
June 20th, 2008 at 8:37 am
bastard. 24 years ago a guy named Bob. 8 years ago, a guy I’ll call W. Long ago and far away and still painfully remembered.
June 20th, 2008 at 9:54 am
You were only easy to forget for those who don’t deserve to remember you.
You had infinitely more class and dignity than this man (toad). ‘Tallulah’ is what I would wish I’d said, but I fear I would have mumbled and bumbled and hung up with my dignity in shreds.
June 20th, 2008 at 11:11 am
Oooof.
June 20th, 2008 at 11:46 am
Oof.
I know that line, or at least I remember knowing it. It’s never easy to go back…
June 20th, 2008 at 12:03 pm
Fucker. Sorry, you can delete this, but I’m pissed.
June 20th, 2008 at 12:33 pm
Oh how I remember the feeling of being forgotten by someone I would think about. I still feel a little twang of pain in my heart when I think about it. Boys Suck.
June 20th, 2008 at 2:10 pm
Oh god. It’s so painful. Men are so good as using up and throwing away.
June 20th, 2008 at 2:48 pm
I absolutely loved your first two paragraphs! Such beautiful descriptive writing; I could just about feel myself there. What a beautiful place. The last part sucked, for you, and I am saddened that you had to experience it. That guy was a cad to call three weeks later and ask “who was this again?” I only hoped someone did it to him after that… (((((Flutter)))))
June 20th, 2008 at 3:10 pm
oh good god. boys.
this was really beautiful.
June 20th, 2008 at 5:59 pm
Growing up doesn’t end when we become of age to vote or die for our country. It simply never ends. Beautiful words, horrible coming of age.
June 20th, 2008 at 6:36 pm
so gorgeous and so terrible.
so glad those days are behind.
June 20th, 2008 at 7:53 pm
I know you hear this all the time. But that was beautiful. It moved me. That moment, that indescribable moment, has been described. By you.
June 20th, 2008 at 8:43 pm
Ouch, Flutter…you made me remember my own youthful missteps. Falling into bed with guys who turn out to be total hypocrites. To this day I can’t figure out why any man would think that HE was better than YOU when HE was there, too.
June 20th, 2008 at 9:11 pm
Oh. That. Boy.
What sucks is that they don’t always grow up and then you are forgotten by That.Man.
Sisters for sure, huh?
June 20th, 2008 at 11:07 pm
This made me tear up. The memories one stupid mistake, ruining a great 8 year friendship. I miss my friend, even thou “it” happened over 20 years ago. I felt different/he felt different…it was different. Once I crossed that line, everything changed in my head, rational or not. Anyway, I am sorry for your pain, but I so appreciate your honesty.
June 21st, 2008 at 3:21 am
Gorgeous.
June 21st, 2008 at 5:09 am
He did you a favor. I would have made an ass of myself calling and what not– restraint. It’s a fine quality. Sex, well, Sex happens.
June 21st, 2008 at 9:28 am
You’re a quick thinker. I’ve always been so amazingly slow at moments like this. Me? I would have probably answered with my full name and social security number. This guy was an imbecile – there’s many of his kind walking around. They tend to remain that way too. Isn’t that sad?
June 21st, 2008 at 10:05 am
Ouch. I’m glad I missed on these particular life experiences.
June 21st, 2008 at 11:06 am
Girl, I know the pain all too well. Surprisingly though moments like these all though at the time it hurts like hell, make us stronger as human beings. Once again, beautifully written. You, as I have said before, are very talented. I love how you get feelings and emotion across. One word, BEAUTIFUL.
June 21st, 2008 at 12:17 pm
No way. You knew him too?
June 21st, 2008 at 4:31 pm
Gah!
June 21st, 2008 at 6:19 pm
I love how you can speak that girl in all of us, showing us your character-packed apartment and that bittersweet Bjork-fueled entanglement you wish you could have back.
Girl, I’ve been there, right down to the whatthefuckjusthappenedhere.
Damn.
Good post.
June 21st, 2008 at 9:35 pm
wow. clearly you are better off without him. 3 weeks? it took only 3 weeks?
fuckin’ men
June 22nd, 2008 at 11:59 am
You were quicker on your feet than I would have been. And, BTW, Tallulah is a great pseudonym for “Over it Mo’ Fo’”
June 22nd, 2008 at 1:38 pm
Your words are so damned powerful.
Featured: http://tinyurl.com/53gs4k
June 22nd, 2008 at 3:58 pm
I dated that guy. When I was 27. Ugh.
June 22nd, 2008 at 5:12 pm
fuckhead.
June 22nd, 2008 at 8:36 pm
This was beautifully written. It drew me in. I was aching for you and cheering when you said “Talullah”. I particularly loved the second paragraph and the description of the night noises drifting into your open windows. What a picture you paint.
June 22nd, 2008 at 10:18 pm
Incredible post. Your writing is stunning. I especially loved ‘the sound of commerce and companionship.’ It brought on sharp memories of sleeping in my Grandma’s apartment in NYC and finally, for once, not being afraid of the dark, because of all the ‘companionship’ outside the open window. And, the boy was a turd, so many are.
June 23rd, 2008 at 6:06 am
oh shit.
i had such a vivid image of the place, of him, the confusion.
and you–”tallulah”–brilliant.
June 23rd, 2008 at 7:34 am
Why do we do these things in our twenties?? If only we had known then what we know now.
June 24th, 2008 at 8:37 am
Bastard. Who hasn’t accidentally slept with a friend? Some guys handle it better than others.
June 26th, 2008 at 10:30 am
Somehow, when you rip these little sand spurs out of your heart and lay them upon the table for us to see they become almost jewel-like in their clarity. I hope in the retelling the impact is lessened.
btw, Tallulah is an excellent answer to that POS phone call.
(and I’m laughing at Chanda for not knowing who Tallulah is!)
June 29th, 2008 at 1:51 pm
I often hate myself for all the stupid things I’ve done. They never really seem to go away.