Tuesday, October 26, 2004

The Name's Bond, Johnny5 Bond (Part I)

A few years ago, I had one of those nights: a two ex-girlfriend night. Two of the most "influential" (context is left to the reader) women in my life were on my path in the evening, one I had just recently separated with and one that I had a long time ago that had been my first real emotionally substantial relationship.

Although I had driven my mind to a point that I believed I was capable of handling the situation, the truth of the matter was that I was totally unprepared. And being a young, stupid guy at this point,

...have I really gained that much more wisdom?...

I decided that a few beers would help alleviate the tension I felt. Easy to do and easily accomplished, the first encounter with the older ex was hard but bearable, and I managed my way out not particularly ridden with new emotional scars.

Well, why not a few more beers to prep for part 2?

Sure, why not, sounds like a great plan.

Off I went to the local diner to have a few. Keep in mind, it's like a family restaraunt there, so having a few beers is about as low as one can go in terms of classiness. It's well lit, people bring children, and I had no shame. After packing my bags, so to speak, filled with liquid courage, I got a ride to the next party.

I showed up strong, confident, and bull-headed. In no way would I show an ounce of weakness, a pinch of regret, nor a smidgen of trepidation. I would, with full temerity, have a good time.

I continue to drink. I'm flirting with people I probably shouldn't be flirting with, but they're not exactly ignoring my advances. I'm being that idiot guy, but my sensibility is tainted by my need to protect whatever emotional strength I have left.

So there I was, living it up, and partying like a rock star. And there was my ex, whose face would exasperatingly pop out at me from the crowd in my now ever-growing fog, that I couldn't seem to ignore. At this point, I've already fallen into the pushes from another interloper who defiantly was flirting shamelessly with me.

Man, this sure doesn't hurt.

But the truth is always masked by interpretation, and eventually, the worst thing at that juncture happened. The party ran out of booze. I grabbed a female friend of mine, and beeseched my situation.

"Can you drive me back to my house to get more beer?"

"Do you really need it?"

"No, I don't, but it'll help the party to keep going, and it'll give me a chance to clear my head. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, I'm actually having fun and don't want it to end yet."

"You sure are. Fine, let's go for a drive."


Immediately after this, the girl who was intent on mixing it up pinned me against the car for a smooch before I took off. I thought I was subtle, but I later heard that my ex was watching from the balcony. Whoops.

I got into the car, and we took off.


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