“The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.”
- Wendell Berry
One night we got drunk and words started escaping, verbal bullshit we called it. The stories came out. As I went home from that night worried about what that blood from my throat meant i thought back, and my mind spoke to me. The odd thing is I remember telling my friend this...thinking back, this is the only way i can express what happened. In this theory, this theory is called Chasing Maggie.
So there's me and her, and we're all inseparable, right? We were having a few drinks, that turned into a few more. Outside, the wind it blew. Her and I, before seeing her with him again were just big time in love. This was about four or five months down the road As the alcohol consumption continued the the idiot gear kicks in, and I ask about the ex-boyfriend, the one i would see her with in the coming weeks.
Men in general all know that the ex-boyfriend questions are a really dumb move. But you know how it is: you don't wanna know, but you just have to, right? Stupid guy bullshit.
So, anyway, she starts telling me about him... how they fell in love, and how they went out for a few of years, and how they lived together, but she likes me better, she feels more around me, she feels alive with me, im better, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah... and I'm okay.
But then she drops the bomb on me, and the bomb is this: it seems that a couple of times, while they were going out, he brought some people to bed with them to experimate different things. Menage à trois, I believe it's called. Now this just blows my mind, right? I mean, I am not used to this sort of thing, i don't want to see the love of my life like this, or hear that she could be shared, as I never could or would. Im Saint shithead sometimes, living in the conservative 1930s, only when it suits me and my judgement of people, that we all swear doesnt exist, but really who are we kidding, everyone judges people. Everyone.
So I'm totally weirded out by this, right? And then I just start blasting her. Like... I don't know how to deal with what I'm feeling, so I figure the best way is by calling her names, and bring it up in a hurtfull manner everynow and then. And tell her she was used. I'm... I'm out for blood. I really wanna hurt this girl. I'm like, "What the fuck is your problem?", right? And she's just all calmly trying to tell me, like, it was that time and it was that place and she doesn't think she should apologize because she doesn't feel that she's done anything wrong. I'm like, "Oh, really?" That's when I look her straight in the eye, and tell her, sorry and pretend it doesnt mean anything. I judged her, and the things she did, even after her honesty. In that moment
It was a mistake. I didn't hate her. I wasn't disgusted with her. I was afraid. At that moment, I felt small, like... like I'd lacked experience, like I'd never be on her level, like I'd never be enough for her or something like that. Typical male ego with my stubourn icing.
But, what I did not get, she didn't care. She wasn't looking for that guy anymore. She was... she was looking for me, for the Love. But, by the time I figure this all out, it was too late. She moved on, and all I had to show for it was some foolish pride, which then gave way to regret. She was the girl, I know that now. But I pushed her away. So, I've spent every day since then chasing Maggie... so to speak.
Pain is a door, a fever burning for more -Ian Kenny
In the end, if i ever see her again, smilling, happy or whatever, and I say hi, I know in the conversation i will just be some guy she once knew.