Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Tell Me a Story

No, I'm not here to digress on my lovefest with Tee. Rather, I will take a divergent path and speak oh-so-eloquently about my favorite kinds of stories: "How they met" stories.


Even if it's something as my parents' simple "friends introduced us," I'll pry and poke and question until I get the smallest of details. Which friends? What kind of restuarant did Dad take you to? Did he pay? Did you think Mom's Catholic school-girlness was naughty? Was Dad's hair long then...how long...like to here? What can I say, I enjoy em.

I think one of the reasons I like these stories so much is because it brings a rush of excitement back to the person reliving it. Another reason is that this simple story can always open someone up to telling other stories somewhat related. My mom will then branch into my Dad's shithead friends (now mostly dead, yikes), the many times they broke up and how they each took a (different) date to the same place which resulted in jealously I can still hear tinging her voice to this day.

I like to imagine how the storyteller must've been like when the story was taking place. I like to place normal, ordinary details in there somewhere to make it more realistic. Did my mom go into the bathroom with her friend and compare notes about their dates? Maybe she had an achey back from PMS but my dad's presence was distracting enough that she forgot about it.

Another reason is that I don't really have a "how they met" story. Tee and I met in high school. We were part of different groups and somehow we met, exchanged numbers to hang out and he called me. I took him to Phil W's house and my guys were shocked that I brought this stranger into our midst*. The silence only lasted a eon but they warmed up pretty fast because even if Tee wasn't one of us, he was recognizable with his long hair and goofiness and soon was accepted as an honorary member of our clique. (*This was particulary unique because I seldom brought gals around and it was even rarer I brought a guy. When I needed attention from a guy, I left, got it, and came back to "my men." I was rabidly anti-boyfriend throughout most of high school.)

Tee and I grew apart after high school with me going to Whitewater and him going to drugs. I found and called the number on the back of his senior picture with the hope that he would design a tattoo for me (artistic and all) and we hung out on weekends in Rockasha. The first time we kissed, Tee was under the influence of some pretty heavy drugs and I broke it off halfway through because I didn't want our first kiss to be under those circumstances.

But since I can't deny the truth of it being the first, that's the one I remember anyhow.

Feel free to add any faux-realistic details in an effort to make this story and it's author more human and/or exciting. I'll see if I work on it too.
Oh yeah, and I've yet to get a tattoo designed for me.

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