After passing out on the couch, I came to at 1:23 when I heard the phone ring. I didn’t even look at the caller idea, because I was a little groggy. And that’s when Taylor returned my phone call. She told me to come down to this bar, because they were having nickel beers from 2-4. Now, I had already passed out with a belly full of scotch by 11:30, and I looked down at the dog weighing the option. It wasn’t the smartest idea, but I decided to at least go out and enjoy my Friday night/Saturday morning.
I put on my jacket, walked down my steps and hailed a cab. Fifteen minutes later I grab three beers. I then walked around looking for either a place to sit or the reason I was at this bar in the first place. I found both in the back corner. She got up to hug me and almost fell. She had four beers on the table, saying I could have one…or two. I promptly pointed to the three I just put down and slid one her way.
I sat and we didn’t talk for a few moments, both working away on a beer. She broke the silence with, “I didn’t think you’d actually show.” I said the word “yeah” into my cup as I finished the Bud Light. She immediately brought up Nicole, and I instinctively hemmed and hawed around the topic with lots of filler words. There was a small group of people there that seemed to thin within minutes of me arriving, and then dwindle down to Taylor and I within an hour. Somewhere between rounds 2 and 3 I went from the chair across her to right next to her. I think it had to do with wanting to be in a booth. But, honestly, it probably had more to do with the fact that we both wanted me to be next to her.
That’s when the moment happened. I’d played this moment out in my head in every single situation imaginable, but I never actually thought it would happen. I don’t even know who started it. I don’t even have more than a hazy recollection of it at all. We started kissing. It wasn’t vile, it wasn’t fireworks, it just was. Two lips grazing and meeting in the middle and getting acquainted for the first time after years of frustration. And then I backed away for a moment to dive in again. And then she broke it, and came right back in. The next thing I know I’m outside the bar trying to get a cab.
The cab ride home was sullen. I was tempted to start a dialogue with the cab driver, about all the stupid ways kissing Taylor could go. But I decided against it and just had the dialogue with my head. I’d wanted this moment for so long, and throughout many different relationships. The bitch of it is that I couldn’t enjoy this because of how it happened, why it happened, and I just felt so goddamn guilty. I suppose that’s what makes me a good Catholic.
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