June 13, 2001
Let me tell you how we first met:
I remember walking into the comic book store and seeing her, with her
hair teased up like mad, and cranky as hell. I thought she was going
to rip up my comic books.
The next day, since I didn't have a life, I went back to the store.
She was there, hair long and
straight down her back. She was happy, and skipping across the store. I
thought that there would be no way the same girl could have two
different moods and two different hairstyles. They had to be twins.
I was bored at the cash register, and she came up to the counter with a
soda. I rang her up, and in an effort to make small talk, I asked
"So what's new?"
She replied, bitterly. "Getting a life."
Or when I watched her at Roderick's, wondering who she was, and how she
fit into the scene, as she collided against some ugly oaf.
It was Friday the 13th. It was a portent, but
we ignored it, because two goths dating on the unlucky day was almost
as good as being born on Halloween.
It went well, as a first date. I quickly learned that she wasn't twins.
The first few months when we were pretty mean. We had a lot of crap to work out. I'm still amazed we
stuck to each other. I guess there was no one else we could turn to.
I remember being so frustrated that I hit my head against the wall.
I'm surprised I didn't suffer a concussion. And that one knuckle will
never be the same.
But...
We covered each other's backs the way only best friends could do, I thought.
Our lives were so similar. We didn't know what to do with our lives,
our families, our brothers, gave us a lot of shit to shovel, and
people scared the fuck out of us.
It didn't end too badly. Actually, everyone has remarked how well we
broke up. But the end was kind of anti-climatic, wasn't it? I keep
thinking that there should be something to commemorate those three-and-
a-half years.
There needs to be an ending to this story. Perhaps this would serve.
Happy (ex)Anniversary.
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