• To Be Real

    by  • August 27, 2013 • * Safe for Work * • 0 Comments

    Michelle,

    You were the hottest babe at the club. I should have married you.
    This was our favorite song. Well, The Bee Gees were your favorite but
    we always laughed about keeping things real. We used to laugh at Olivia Newton John. Hahaha. I knocked myself out to get us tickets for the Bee Gees. To this day I’m glad you whined about it because they were unreal. I thought they were bubble gum pop, but they turned into a rock band that night. Tragedy was so powerful; the sound and beat were amazing. One of the best concerts to this day

    You know, there was that one guy who thought he was so cool? The gold chain and shirt unbuttoned? He sorta swooped in and snagged you just after your fiancee walked away?

    I swear to God, I think I saw that dope last night. For real! Made me think of you. Yeah, a Tragedy. How fitting. You had so much going for you and so did I but I HATED how you would flirt with all the guys. You disrespected me but you had to have that attention. I put up with it for awhile, but minus that, you were perfect to me.

    You ended up with gold chain guy. You may have thought I had something to do with that. When I saw the dude last night, I couldn’t help but wonder why everything went down the way it did. I just wanted a family and someone I loved, but you wanted to run the town 6 nights a week. I imagined you either single still or on your 4th marriage.

    It will remain a mystery my whole life. Took years racking my brain why you weren’t honest with me. I could have handled the news, but you always were sort of underhanded about things.

    I swear, I almost went up to that guy last night and decked his ass.
    But I wanted you to know –it wasn’t me.— I don’t roll that way.

    Actually, I never even got wind of that crazy story until recently. It was bits and pieces, here and there from different people. But I never knew about any of that. In fact, I heard a entirely different version from you that one time we talked years later. I felt so bad for you, but later I doubted the truth of the whole thing. I think you use it to get attention and sympathy. It evokes the protector mechanism in men. Slick.
    Jesus, you worked me good. I eventually decided that maybe 20% of what you told me was the truth. Such a shame you had to operate like that. The truth would have been just as easy. It was so confusing. Why? I’ll never understand why people do that.

    Course, you never did ever tell the whole story of anything. I guess that’s why I left, despite all your surface charm. I wish you were real, like the song we danced to almost every night. You were perfect in my eyes. You never needed to ever tell any stories. That’s the shame about it.

    Not Real. A Tragedy.
    We could have been somebody.

    Italian from New York

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