The Catastrophic History Of You And Me

     I sat on the curb, holding a bag of clothing that didn’t belong to me, waiting for someone.  I didn’t know that it would be you.  I didn’t know that two hours of conversation would lead to something more.  I damn sure didn’t know that you would become the love I never forgot.
     That moment when I first laid eyes on you, time stood still.  We were meant for something, and I think you felt it, too.  The first time I heard you laugh, I felt the sound of it in my soul, and I knew I wanted to hear it again.  And again.  All these years later, I miss your laugh.
     The first time you kissed me, I wished that kiss would never stop.  We were more than a little inebriated, in the middle of a conversation, and you kissed me midsentence.  My brain stuttered, and I forgot all coherent speech.
     You took my hand and led me somewhere so we could actually talk.  I can no longer recall what we were trying to talk about, but I can still recall how much I wanted you to kiss me again in that moment.  Eventually, you did.
     That second kiss led to our first night together.  Some things about that night are kinda fuzzy (because I was just a tad tipsy.  Ok, I lied.  I was plain old drunk).  However, the conversation afterwards has been etched in my memory.  I’ll never forget the cocky smirk on your face when you said to me, “I think this is the part where you pretend to be embarrassed and say you don’t know how this happened, and how you’re not that kind of girl”.  I looked at you, straight into your hypnotizing blue eyes, and replied, deadass, “I’m totally that kind of girl.  I do this shit on the regular”.
     That laugh again.  That damned laugh that still reverberates through the halls of my memory when I miss you the most.  That laugh that’s burned into the deepest hollows of my heart, the part of me that belongs only to you, even now.
     I only intended for you to be a one night guy.  I never expected more.  You did, though.  You wanted more than I was ready for back then.  I’ll always remember your words when I told you I didn’t want anything serious.  You said -and I quote- “You say now that you don’t want a relationship.  Give me a week.  Let’s talk more.  Let me take you out.  I guarantee, by the end of the week, I’ll be your boyfriend”.  It was right then and there that I fell for you.  What can I say, I’m a sucker for a determined and cocky fucker.
     You weren’t wrong, either.  In one week, you managed to monopolize any free time I had.  I had gotten used to you being around, and so, when you asked to make it official, it made perfect sense that I would say yes.  And that’s how you became a part of me.
     That’s not to say it was all sunshine and roses.  Our first fight happened soon after.  I remember you came to pick me up when I was done working.  I made some offhand remark about it being my mama’s birthday. “So, what are you gonna get her for her birthday,” you asked, fully interested.  Back then, it seemed anything I said captivated you.  I began walking away, saying over my shoulder, “Nothing.  She pissed me off, so she doesn’t deserve anything”.
     That was when you flipped your shit.  “It’s her birthday, and you damn sure will fucking get her something.  Even if I have to pick it out and pay for it my damn self”.  I remember being completely stunned.  You had never yelled at me before, much less cussed at me.  To be honest, I thought it was hot as fuck.  “She doesn’t even like you, so why do you care,” I demanded to know.
     And so I learned that you had lost your mama when you were young.  My heart broke for you.  I might have been pissed at my mama, but I couldn’t live without her.  You didn’t even care that she didn’t like you, though.  You wanted me to make things right with her.  
     After that, you seemed to open up more and really let me in.  You talked about the things you wanted out of life, how you wanted to be a Marine and be a father.  You had asked me about having a baby together, and you tried to get me pregnant, in an underhanded way.
     At that point in my life, though, I wasn’t ready to be a mother.  I wanted to get drunk and get high and do all the wild, stupid things young people are supposed to do.  You took my refusal personally, as if I were rejecting you and a possible future.  It was never that.  I hope that somewhere deep down, you realize it.  I took your attempt to knock me up as a sign that you didn’t respect me as a person.  Sadly, it tore us apart, and we split not long after.
     Two weeks without you.  I never expected you to come back.  Not after the way we had left things.  But, there you were, at my door and asking to talk.
     We sorted our shit and decided to give it another go.  In our time apart, I don’t know what happened to you; I just know you weren’t the same when you came back.  We never did get back to how we used to be in the beginning.  You drank a lot and said a lot of horrible things to me in your drunkenness.
     And I took care of you.  No matter that you treated me like shit every time you drank, I loved you.  So, I stayed.  I held on, hoping with everything in me that we would get back to how we had been.  Never before in my life had I felt the strange paradox of happiness and loneliness simultaneously.
     It wasn’t long until you began accusing me of cheating on you.  You should know that I never did.  I was all yours; I didn’t want anyone else.  No matter what I said, though, you broke up with me.  You would go and fuck some other chicks, then come back to me, full of apologies.
     You made a habit of it.  I made a habit of taking you back each time.  For years.
     There did come a time when I thought we were past that bulllshit.  You called my phone and asked to speak to my mama.  That was all you said to me during that call, did you know that?  As soon as the call was over, my mama said to me, “I need a cigarette.  We should go out for a smoke.”
     “I wanna eat. I don’t wanna go smoke right now.”
     Mama gave me a wink as she insisted, “Trust me, you do.”
     She told me that she wasn’t supposed to say anything, but you had asked her permission to ask me to marry you.  She didn’t like you, but she knew how you made me happy, despite all the bullshit. “All I want is for you to be happy.  If he makes you happy, I won’t stand in the way,” she finished saying.
     I miss our playfulness.  Do you remember our two a.m snowball fight?  You swore you left your phone in the car.  “I can’t find my phone,” you sounded kinda panicked.  “Do you mind looking for it?”
     I swear, I looked everywhere I could think to look and came up empty.  I turned to you, and you clobbered me dead in the face with a freezing cold snowball.  I jumped out of the car and made a pathetic little snowball to get you back.  We were out there for quite some time, in the cold of a winter night, having a snowball war.  To be honest, that’s my favorite memory of you.
     We went to hell and back in a few short years.  You got drunk and forgot we were together, so you cheated.  At the time, I swore I would never forgive you.  I tried to move on, and I ended up pregnant by another guy.
     When you found out about the pregnancy, you called me.  You had questions.  You swore you had to be the father.  I’ll never forget the moment I uttered the words that were our undoing.  “It’s not your baby.”
     You came home for a visit.  I was eight months pregnant and alone.  When you showed up at my door (with your new fiancee), we spent time together, and you asked me about my doctor visits.  You asked me when the baby was due, and you had asked to he there when she was born.  I couldn’t say no.  You had been there for me and had my back.
     You called me when you got back home.  Told me that you and your girl had split.  Apparently, she felt that she couldn’t compete with me.  Your dumb ass agreed with her.  So, you were single again, and so was I.  You asked to try again.  I still loved you, so I took you back.  Again.
     You were sent overseas before my daughter was born.  Our first chance to talk once you were gone was    when my daughter was two months old.  You wanted details, when did I have her, what did I name her, etc.  That was the same call that you told me you had married someone else.  I never told you that after I got off the call, I locked myself in my bathroom and cried for about four hours.
    The last time I saw you, my daughter was almost one year old.  God, I wish I could forget how amazing that day was, but I can’t.  You picked my daughter and me up to go to your nephew’s birthday party.  Your sister had a bouncy house for the occasion, and my daughter tried to climb in but kept falling out.  You told me to just throw her in.  So, I did.  You looked at me, shocked, and were like, “I didn’t mean to literally throw her in”!  Oops.
     It really was the perfect day.  Did I ever tell you what that day meant to me?  Me, you, and the baby that I wish with everything in me had made us a family.  The only hiccup in our time that day was the argument we had about you wanting to adopt my daughter.  I don’t have the words to cover how much I regret that we’re not the family we had always dreamt of being.
     And so it ends, the catastrophic history of you and me.