Posted 10:46 PM by Duke

It already came around:

My birthday came and went. Got a little drunk, made out with a friend. And so the story goes.

Here goes the story.

I've known her since middle school. She's cute, petite, fun to be around, easy to talk to. All that jazz. We've almost always gotten along, but it wasn't until college that we really began our relationship (as friends). This summer in particular we spent a lot of time together. She had a boyfriend she didn't like too much. He was nothing like her guy friends. He was somewhat "ghetto" for her. The typical guy-guy, he wore stupid jeans that were too short, with clunky basketball shoes that make anyone look stupid. He didn't have much of a future, and for someone like her, that simply wouldn't do. We spent the summer at dinners, jazz clubs, coffee shops. The occasional trip to the mall.

I used to make this mistake in high school; falling for my friends. I figure hey, we get along, she's pretty, we're already friends. So what's a little intimacy? A lot, it turns out. Back in those days I was also quick to make a move on boyfriends that were too stupid to figure out what was happening. In fact, my very first girlfriend was stolen from underneath another boy's nose. Older, more mature Duke would have none of that. I confided in a few friends just to release a little pressure, but I played it cool. We remained as friends, me patiently listening to her complain. We tried to figure out what to do next, how best to break things off. We parted at the end of summer, her with her dim boyfriend, me with my angst and frustration.

My birthday involved some drinking and her in these jeans that were simply astounding. At dinner we were at opposite poles of the circle, we didn't even have a chance to hug or talk until an hour or so into the evening. But we made eye contact. She had lost about 180lbs in the form of that dim boyfriend. Things were looking up. We all go to the bar, and my friends concoct a game. "Duke, you have five minutes from getting your first drink to finding the girl you will hit on for the rest of the night."

"OK, no problem. It's my birthday. Who wouldn't want to sleep with me tonight?"

The game was a failure, I end up striking up a chat with a Columbian woman 10 years my senior. She would have nothing to do with me. So I turned to the girl's ear, I tell her that she was the one I picked. That since the summer I've had this unanswered crush on her. We end up at the bar, away from our friends for a moment. She wishes me a happy birthday. She gives me a kiss. We kiss a little more. We go back to the couch and talk a little bit. She says I have nice lips, that she has wondered how they'd feel since the summer. But of course she couldn't have done anything then. But now, now is different.

We make drunken plans for lunch the next day. We miss lunch, but get coffee in the evening. I have a flight out in 12 hours. There is no awkwardness. She's the type of girl that isn't fazed by much, the type that might use the word, 'whateverishly'. We know things won't work out now, she's in Texas, I'm in Michigan. Neither of us have any set plans for next fall. That's OK, though. Sure, I can live with that. She mentions that she would have never dated her ex had she not kissed him. We talk for a bit longer. I thread the conversation back to that rogue comment. I'm odd like that. I ask her about me, more than a simple feedback form regarding my ratio of tongue to saliva to palm-on-cheek.

"You've kissed me. Forgetting all of the things in our way right now, could we ever have been?" I am earnest. She is taken aback, perhaps not so ready for that high lob. She recovers. She responds that it would never come up, because we could never end up a 'we' in the ultimate sense. Because she knows that I could not marry outside of my race.

Looking back, it could have been an easy out for her, a gentle way of letting me down because she isn't so attracted sober. Or maybe it was an easy out for both of us. Sometimes it's easier not asking those questions, not following down those paths. How many more times will I have to relive these moments?