Pocketbook Full of Confidence

Candace. Where are you? What have you been up to?

I found myself thinking about you today for the first time in a long time. I was telling my friend a few tales of our silly adventures. You always popped up out of the ether whenever I needed you most, when I was full of self-doubt and sinking into a pit of depression. You were there, ready to prop me back up again, feeding me self-confidence like candy from your purse.

Remember the first time we met? We were at some stupid New Year's Eve party in NoVA where neither of us knew anyone except the person we came with, so we ended up hanging out together on the porch, passing joints and talking strictly in British accents.

Remember our first "date" when I took you to the redneck bar for pool and we danced to "Freebird" and hung out for hours talking about machine guns and radios with a man who couldn't get his wedding ring off? He tried to kiss you in the parking lot and you said, "Get off me, you gross old man. I'm with him." He still paid for our cab. Later that night, you pricked our fingers with your chef's knife and we wrote our first initials on the backs of each other's hands. Then, you burnt off your left eyelash while attempting to light the candles and I got a blister on my lip from your bowl. You made fun of me for looking like a crackhead and I gave you a yellow magic marker to color in a new eyebrow, which you did, and we both laughed and laughed. Later that night I made you stand in front of the mirror so you could see how your eyes lit up when I called you "Kitty Kat."

Remember our next date when we lay in the field underneath the power lines, remaining totally silent while the planes flew overhead? You saw a flashing blue light in the distance and we ventured through the woods to investigate, only to get lost for 2 hours while never going further than 100 yards from your apartment.

Remember the "MRG's Mix Tape" scam? Remember the time we almost got to meet Stevie Wonder but then lost the guy's phone number? How many times did we listen to side 2 of "Talking Book" while you berated me for my fascination with David Bowie? I'd guess at least a hundred.

Remember your first night in your new apartment in Alexandria? Laura came over and we dared ourselves to stay up all night. You fell asleep with your knee in my back like always and then I passed out, only to wake up at 5AM with Laura calling us "sleep pussies." I had to ride the metro all the way back to New Carrollton at 6AM with melting hair-spikes from you girls and your mousse, wearing nothing but a coffee-stained white tshirt and your ex-boyfriend's exercise pants while businessmen stared at me over their copies of the "Wall Street Journal." I was late to work that day.

Remember the time that guy accused us of being pool hustlers and tried to fight me? I threatened to cut him with a steak knife in the parking lot and you told him that he'd seen "The Color of Money" too many times. Later that night, he paid our entire tab after we beat him and his partner in 7 straight games. Then, as we walked around the corner on the way to the hotel, you grabbed me and threw me up against the stone wall and told me you loved me. I told you I loved you back. I still don't drive down that street.

Remember our last phone conversation? You were scared I was going to fall asleep at the wheel while driving the ten hours home from my sister's wedding and die, so you called every 30 minutes to make sure I was ok, right up until I pulled into my driveway.

But that's all in the past. I wonder why you ran away like you did. Just up and disappearing, gone without even a phone call. I know about your troubles with the state of California but you never exactly explained the charges, did you? Still, I sometimes dream about you, out there somewhere, robbing banks or working the kitchen on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico.

I still carry these memories around like spare change in my fifth pocket. I even developed a heart-wrenching crush on this girl last year just because she reminded me of you in only the smallest, most artificial ways. You always were "the real deal." Anyways, I almost lost my job because of that plus I missed out on at least two real relationships, one of which could've lasted a lifetime, only I screwed it up by thinking too much. You remember how I do that sometimes, right?

Later, Gator.


PS.
I'm getting a root canal tomorrow. Ouch.