This weekend was a very strange one. I stayed with my parents in CT for the holiday weekend. While out running an errand for my mother Saturday afternoon, I was standing in line at the convenience store. I should mention going out in public can be a hassle, even in the small town where I grew up--especially in the small town. Everyone knows everyone!
Anyway, I had my hair tied back, a baseball cap on my head (Red Sox of course), sunglasses and a full winter jacket with the collar pulled up. While I waited in line with bread and milk for my mother, I heard someone behind me clear their throat. I didn't turn around. I wasn't even sure it wasn't an actual throat clearing.
Then I heard a female voice. "Dane?" Oh boy! Though she did not sound like a fan. They generally address me as, "Oh my GOD, you're Dane Bainbridge!"
I turned around. Behind me stood a very pretty blonde. Even beneath her bulky winter clothes, I could see she was quite fit. I prefer brunettes, or red heads to blondes (unless they are real blondes). I smiled. "Hello."
"You don't recognize me," she said and a frown did not look good on her pretty face.
Uh oh! I had to search my memory and fast. I meet so many women, I cannot be expected to remember them all, can I?
"It's me," she said, "Tracy!"
Tracy... Tracy... Hmm... Holy crap! THE Tracy? I had not seen her since I was 18 years old. I had been dating her best friend, who coincidentally, happened to be named Traci but with an "i." Tracy was one of many regrets I had in life. Though I loved Traci, she was average, a little bit overweight, and I didn't have the highest confidence back then (what man who is delusional and sees people in mirrors would be?) Okay, forget I said that!
In any event, fantasies of Tracy got me through many a night, whether I was in bed with Traci, or alone. I may sound shallow, and maybe I am, but looks matter to me. I think they matter to everyone to some extent, but most people aren't willing to admit it. And so my girlfriend's best friend became my "food for fodder" so to speak.
Long story short, after we paid for our items, we stood outside the convenience store in the cold, damp air and talked. It turns out, she felt the same about me. I confessed my "sin" of wanting so badly to... fu*& her. But I felt she was too good for me. Now, she admitted felt the same about me, but didn't want to hurt her best friend (who, incidentally, she no longer has much contact with).
But it was too late now. She was married, loyally, and had 2 children. We parted ways with regret in our hearts for a past that could have been, but was gone now never to return.
Needless to say, my next stop was the liquor store and I spent last night getting drunk and trying not to think about what I could have had.
Is there a moral to this story? I guess there is, but it's for you to figure out what's the moral in your own life.
Oh look at me, Dane the philosopher.