the simplest plan.

i felt so naive, so distanced from what was happening around me. i felt like i was still a twelve year old girl. and technically, mostly, as far as experience is concerned, i think i am.

it's nice to relive your past in a good way. not going back to places that don't remember you as well as you remember them, not thinking sadly about what you might have done to change things. its nice to look at your friends and say, "man, that was so fucking great. i wish that moment had lasted for a million years."

and yet, all weekend, between the marathon x-box sessions (serious vampire ass was kicked) and the copious amounts of coffee, ridiculously copious amounts of food, abnormal amounts of alcohol, driving and music, there was this taint of sadness. i wanted to go here - to see this boy. i wanted to go there - to see that boy. yeah, he recognized me across the parking lot even with my gigantic sunglasses on, two days after he had taken my sandwich order and commented on my tattoo.

the thing was, i was involved in this totally decadent weekend and what i cared about was a boy. because that is what i lack, what i have always lacked, what i have come to believe that i will continue to lack up to and past the time that my only pursuits are gardening, feeding the cats, and yelling at the kids outside.

this is how i am lucky: i have more better friends than maybe anyone i know. i am not sure if this means that i am just more open, or more receptive to that sort of thing, or if it means i accept it more easily. or if i just get along with almost anyone really easily.

but that's the truth. i have gotten close enough for sharing with thirteen people that i can count without thinking about it - probably more. and all of those people i still refer to as "best friend," without a second thought.

and yet, in the middle of this deliciously sunny, laughter filled weekend, i wanted my preferences met. i wanted to go to the bar where that boy would be - the one who asked when i was coming back. i wanted to go to that restaurant where that boy would be - the one who said "cute" twice and probably meant it.

i need that reassurance, i need that satisfaction. i want someone to push my hair over my shoulder, bury his face in my neck and fall asleep. i want someone to say to me, "no, i know you're falling asleep. you always breathe like that when you're falling asleep." i miss that security, and i miss feeling that beautiful.

i was sorry that my determination to remain bridget jones hampered even a few seconds of our weekend, but there you have it. that's what i do. with possibilities so few and far between, it's up to me to follow through with every lead, just to make sure.

when you're me, here is never gone.