Friday, March 11, 2005

Hapless Romantic.

So we had our one year anniversary last night. Totally slipped my mind. If she had not remembered, it would have been completely forgotten. Harsh? Yes. Honest? Absolutely. I have never been good with dates. Or names. Or reasons behind bruises. Or parking tickets.

Hell, go ahead and lump: district voting, dentist appointments, dry cleaning, leaf blowing, and getting my goddamn licenses renewed into that bursting pile of forgotten-ness as well. Life is like that. Some remember, some don’t. What can you do, right?

I have had ‘issues’ with remembering small detailed mumbo-jumbo my entire life. I always seem to forget those intimate pieces of situations and people which are really important to them. And this tends to come across as assholish. As if I meant to crap all over them and their delicate sensibilities. But I have never, to the best of my memory, forgotten anything on purpose. That would be considered malicious. I prefer to see myself as either a) incapable (preferred) or b) negligent (not so preferred).

The fact that I tend to forget things about people and situations I have deep feelings for, pushes me toward believing that it is all a question of capability. How much blame can you honestly put on a man who does not hear you calling his name, if he is clinically deaf? Telling him that he has ears, and that they *should* work does not a workable solution provide (my international econ professor used to refer to sentences like that as ‘convoluted Craig’ sentences. He was kind of a dick. He was cool as shit). Now many of my friends have either given up on me and my memory (consider me a complete ass and failure, because I forgot to call them on their mother’s birthday or some such nonsense), or they have grown to accept it – ignore it – and focus on my more impressive qualities. Qualities such as:

I cannot breakdance, but I try.
I am really pale.
I have the foot-speed of January molasses.
I can spel beter then a too year old parot.
I parallel park like a bitch in heat.
My one-arm push-ups resemble a man sleeping on the ground.
I cook a mean and nutritious bowl of cereal (with or without spoon)
I can make up really ridiculous similes and metaphors.
I like to tell big lies about being good at things which I have no knowledge of.

I mean, with all that impressiveness, it is easy to overlook the fact that we may have met thirteen times (two of those times may have involved gifts between us) and I still do not remember your name. Seriously, have you seen how pale I am! Wow!

So my lady made us the most wonderful dinner. It was this meal that she totally invented the previous day. In her mind. Somewhere in there, she thought that mangos, mid-sized shrimp, mango chutney (with chili powder), and green peppers should be marinated together – simmered in a shallow sauce pan until the shrimp buckled – and served over rice… would taste like heaven. And she was completely on the mark. It was, by far, the best meal I have had in many months (sorry Mom, and sorry anyone else who I may have forgotten about who made me dinner recently. You understand, what with the shitty memory and all, right? Thanks so much).

I had been so pathetic and sickly for so many days that I felt a burst of energy yesterday evening. A burst of energy so refined, and so profound, that it manifested in old-folks behavior. Which I LOVED. Dearly.

We danced to Al Green in my closet-sized living room (she is trying to teach me dance properly. I prefer rump-shakin’, if given an option, and I think she wants to expand my dancing horizons immensely). We ate her delicious meal and talked about art (her art, mainly, which is brilliant). Then we watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Jim Carey… acted like a close relative of mine in that movie). Then we napped (call it what you like). Then we played Scrabble (she’s a mad-ass Scrabble-dabbler). Then it was almost two in the morning. Craig passed out.

Just like old folks!

I am so glad ONE of us in this couple remembers these things. Because I would honestly hate to miss out. Wait, what am I talking about here? Damnit.

Just like old folks.

4 comments:

Truecraig said...

okay. I can comment here. Damnit.

firedancerdancin said...

AWWWW!!! how great! all cutesy! woo! being "old" rocks. I need to be like an old couple more often...not individually of course. with the other...

i'm jealous. last night i got drunk and got in a fight with k. i'm good like that.

he started it though. not gonna say how EXACTLY, but it involved puking and a car. one too many pitchers at the mean eyed cat will apparently do that to you.

Truecraig said...

Of course Mel, it is always the guy's fault. Or, so I'm told.

Actually, I blame all of my arguments on El Nino. I also tend to blame El Nino when I have one too many pitchers and puke (in/on/from any vehicle) too. Fucking El Nino, always jacking with my game. What a punk.

Anonymous said...

You are such a sweetie!

brother nick