As Lovers Go

Entry 2:

I kind of like this journal-writing thing so I think I'll keep it up. And Ruth was right; it does make me feel much better. It really helps to have a venting channel because a lot of times people don't want to listen to your feelings on tragedy.

I bumped into Ethan today while I was cutting through the music building. I should have figured that it would happen eventually seeing him again after what happened between us. It was awkward but not in the way it was with Brian. With Brian it was awkward because we both still felt the electricity when the other was in the room. With Ethan it was more like broken promises and shattered dreams at my feet, metaphorically speaking, that I felt the need to bring back up just to see if I could wound him the same way he did me, if I hadn't already, and if I had… I wanted it to be ten times worse.

Funny how sometimes you can be more vindictive than you knew you could be when your heart is ripped out and run over by a proverbial Semi Truck. My friends say that I've gotten deeper and more philosophical with age. Life experience sometimes makes you look at things differently. Some people, like myself, analyze and consider the lesson life is teaching. Other's like Brian make use it as a wall to shield themselves from more hurt, when in reality it just ends up hurting them more. Good thing I have a sledge hammer huh?

Anyway, I got off track there with being philosophical. Now, about the run in with Ethan, as I was saying, I should have expected it since I was on his turf but ya know, I didn't think about it that much. Just kept going because it was too fucking cold to walk outside. He came out of the practice room we'd met in the Monday after his concert and I just kept walking, I wanted to stop and retreat before he saw me but my feet kept moving. He stopped and we stood there, staring at each other, neither one moving except for our chests as they rose and fell with inhale and exhale of cold hair from the unheated wing.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," I replied. Yeah, I felt smooth.

"I heard about what happened. I'm sorry to hear about Justin. I'm glad to see you're okay." He sounded very sincere.

"Thanks." I forced a smile.

"Look I'm sorry about…"

"Don't make fake apologies Ethan. It's over. It was a bad mistake and I realized I'm where I belong now and always belonged. I'm sorry I used you." I said quickly.

"With Brian?" He said softly.

I nodded. Why lie? What's the sense in that? Besides, he'd done enough of that for both of us. He nodded too, looking dejected and said something like see ya around or talk to you later or some lame form of not having to say good-bye to protect himself from that searing pain that good bye held. For a minute I felt sorry for him. Only for a minute.

But after my total rejection of "the fiddler" I felt pretty damn good. Sick huh? I felt good about destroying someone else. Sometimes I wonder if they should change my nickname for Sunshine to Black Widow. The reason I wonder that is because I tend to leave former lovers emotionally dead. Okay, where did that darkness come from? This really is a happy entry I promise.

Well, after I left school I really felt the need to get some chocolate. For some reason heartbreak and chocolate go well together, be you the heartbreaker or the heartbreakee, nothing makes you feel good after like chocolate. But my wallet was at home. I went to pit stop at the loft and drop my school shit, change into something cute, cuddly and warm and considered also stopping to rent a movie. It was a Friday after all and I was kind of in the mood for something ridiculously romantic. Though I couldn't guarantee Brian would feel the same way.

When I got there I was surprised to see the Vette. I worried maybe that Brian had had some trouble at work or his company went bankrupt or something. But then I realized that was really depressing and I was seriously in need of chocolate if this was going to be my mind set for the rest of the evening. As I went in I thought I heard whistling from the loft and sure enough as I opened the door, Brian was whistling and making dinner. I think someone took an alien version of Brian and replaced my Brian with him and real Brian was up in the mother ship being anal probed. I take that back, he'd be doing the probing.
Damn I'm cynical.

"Heya Sunshine," The name still made me shiver.

"Hey… why are you home?" I asked quizzically, coming in and setting my shit down.

"I got a big account this morning and thought I'd celebrate with the man in my life." He said, feeding me some marinara.

"Oh… who?"

"Prada!"

I laughed hysterically. "Oh god, I've lost you to discounts on designer."
He smirked. "Shut up."

I sat on the couch after Okaying my sample of marinara and pulled my legs to my chest and watched him with fixation. I'd never seen him cook before, nor had I tasted his cooking before so this was a new experience. I must say I quite liked it. He looked so at ease cooking. Not a thing in the world seemed to bother him while he was in the kitchen. I was almost too romantic and I was trying to snap out of the Brian Watching trance that tends to ensnare all your senses at once. It wasn't working.

"I was going to rent a movie," I said reluctantly getting up and going to the bedroom.

"Sounds good. Dinner will be a little while longer, so why don't you go get something, your choice and we'll just have a relax just the two of us night, how's that sound?"

What the fuck? Where's the real Brian? But I did as I was told, went to get the movie and some chocolate, I got a couple movies actually. Some really good classics because I'm a sucker for Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe, so I rented Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany's, My Fair Lady, Seven Year Itch, Niagara (Marilyn was an underrated Dramatist) and No Business Like Show Business. Brian was kind of off standing toward my selections at first.

But we popped in Breakfast at Tiffany's first and eat our ziti and French bread (why is French bread served with Italian food?) and by dessert and our final movie Roman Holiday, we were wrapped in each other's arms, laughing and crying and begging Gregory Peck to go back to Audrey Hepburn. We both knew he wouldn't but we couldn't help but want him to anyway.

I was told by Brian back when I was recovering from the bashing that the Prom was the best night of my life. I take that back. This night, with Brian, just us, with old movies, chocolate pasta and tears, us being real, us being a couple, us doing things I never thought it possible for us to do, this was the best night of my life. And in the words of Dashboard Confessional… this is easy as lovers go.