An Open Letter to the Boy for Whom I've Already Once Written an Open Letter.


I can't believe I'm in my hometown, and I can't believe I'm doing this again.

This time has been the longest time, hasn't it? Between our tet-a-tets I mean. It was maybe the week after labor day in 2008 the last time I donned all of my clothes and left your apartment in Georgetown. Okay, I stormed out of your apartment, and I remember saying "this isn't really worth my while if it isn't worth my while", then swinging a leg over the edge of your loft bed and very ungracefully lowering myself to the ground.

And do you remember that time I stormed out of your house in Columbia City? It must have been two or three in the morning, and I can't even remember my complaint that time but I'm sure it was something like it always is, and I threw all my shit in the back of my rental car and drove directly to Ben Harrison's house without blinking.

But it wasn't all just me getting pissed and running or crying or both--there were simple times too, like when we very first met when I was 24 or at 26 when we spent Labor Day weekend together. Even when things were complicated, you were always easy. Frustrating as all hell, but easy. And it's so weird, Wood. It's like everything that makes my life frenetic is silenced around you and as I've found out in the last couple of days, that is still true.

We're so old, Wood. Seriously, we weren't kids when we met and we're definitely not now, and everything I told you when I lectured you at breakfast the other day might just be the first time I've been right about where we should go from here.

But of course, I guess that's part of it too--that "we" are not a we, and we have known for a very long time that we simply aren't suited for that. Yet as easy as you are, this has always been particularly hard to remember.

But I remember now.

I will remember how your collarbone smells and the way your hair feels between my fingers, and I will, though you hate this, remember your eyes as green. I will remember all the times I had you on a few days lease and it was the last night you'd be in my bed or I in yours, and I will never, ever forget that I love you, and I guess that's why you got the lecture because I need you to be great, and I need us to be friends forever.

So please, to recap, find a nice girl. Find that girl that makes your life sit still for a few minutes while you admire her. Be attentive to her, seriously, and tell her everything you're thinking all the time. Make secrets with her, and don't tell them to your other friends. Give her an endearing nickname, and don't refer to her as "Woman", because she will hate it more than I do. And finally, call her your Girlfriend. No qualifiers, okay? Not "pink haired girlfriend" or "lesbian girlfriend" or even my now retired moniker: "San Francisco Girlfriend"-- just call her your Girlfriend. And tell her you love her everyday, to her face, and make both her and your Mother happy and give her a baby. You'd probably surprise yourself with your ability to be a good dad.

I want to tell you that you'll find this in Cali, but you wont. You love this place. If you leave you'll be back anyway, so you might as well find her here. She's here, Wood. I promise. But you wont find her on a barstool or on your Clubride or generally most anywhere that you frequent--so you're going to have to change, Wood. You need to do new things. But you knew that, you know that this can't work forever.

I believe you can do this. I will always help you if you need me to, so call me. Anytime, day or night. The thing I can't do anymore is stand in while you pretend that I'm her, because I'm definitely not. I never was.

But that's okay. Promise.


p.s.-- Get a real apartment.

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