� The list of men and boys who wished they were. � 2006-01-02 � 8:25 p.m. �
I was reminded of the list of suitors... the actual paper list of men knocking, calling, pleading... It was on paper - my friend thought it was funny... and I thought it was ridiculously embarassing. Everytime a new boy would call a second time, he'd go on the list.
She had it broken down in a sort of system so she could keep track... the men who'd drop the world... leave their wives... (the Ians/Glenns) or the ones who might just give up the game on Saturday night to feed me or keep me entertained...(the Seans) or the ones who knew damn well they couldn't handle me on any level beyond what existed (the nathans) and would just call now and then, or drop by, as the case might be, to declare undying lust (and the Grants/Glenns).
Was there really that many? Well, she says so in any case... and I suppose she has a point when going through my junk today I find a Pizza Pizza napkin with a phone number on it... no area code and the name Nick... and I, for love nor money, can figure out who Nick is or what city he lives in. I would have called if I had had an area code... I might have an idea if I had an area code.
I wonder under what heading "Nick" would have fallen under...
I hate not remembering someone. My memory is all I have, afterall, and not remembering a name or a face... in an instance like that, kind of makes me feel cheap... makes me feel like they're cheap. And they aren't. I'm not.
For on that long list of men and boys who wished they were there's less an handful I can honestly say ever got more out of me than a smile.
The secret to my success was memory... and friendship and without that, all I have is a suitcase full of pizza napkins, beer labels, business cards... and names that don't mean a thing.
Perhaps that's why I won't burn a bridge... even if I'll never cross it.
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