Discovered tonight that my car stereo's highest number is 62. Was driving home from knitting group tonight, and heard a blast from the past song, "Good" by Better Than Ezra. Hence the discovery of the loudest level. I feel the need to explain (and be the stereotypical, self-obsessed windbag blogger). Please skip if you have no interest in historical stories of love, loss, and recovery.
Mike and I met in December 1995, when I was in college, and shortly after he had graduated. His friend's roommate introduced us over winter break in Athens, the year that I started doing the family's Christmas baking. Tom (another friend I met that same day) described it as, "...heaven. There were blankets everywhere, and cookies on every flat surface." Suffice to say that after a bit of time as buddies, Mike and I started dating. I thought it was casual, but I was still very happy. Friends even commented on how happy I was - right, Kel?
He was searching for jobs outside of Athens (that paid better than his notoriously cheap boss - may he rest in peace), and had applied for a position in Dayton. Well, he got that job, and moved in April 1996. We broke up, as he didn't want a long distance relationship. I was devastated. But I couldn't blame him for anything, as I totally understood - I would have been the same way, had I been the one leaving. At any rate, I was heartbroken.
Still, I respected his decision, and didn't call very often. Apparently I should have called more frequently, as Psychobitch (the ex - and another story entirely, perhaps for another day, although it's probably Mike's to tell) called and caught him on a lonely, depressed day, and they got back together. Um, I was annoyed when I learned of that. (Understatement.) I was
also annoyed when I'd learned that he'd been in Athens for a weekend and didn't contact me. I found out because he had left his keys at Tom's place, and wanted me to deliver them. Yeah. I thought about being mean and nasty, but ended up being nice and driving to Dayton for a few hours in exchange for dinner. (We won't talk about the dinner - he still feels guilty about that.)
Anyway, we were sporadically in contact for the next few years. I grew up a bit, travelled the US and Canada, realized that yes, I really wanted him to be happy, even if it was with Psychobitch. (It wasn't.) Finally, about the time that he moved to Pittsburgh (1999), he finally ended things with her because, well, she was psycho. (Not really, I guess she's supposedly a nice person, but she will always be Psychobitch to me.) And they just weren't really meant to be together, which is again another story, also not mine to share.
At any rate, during our hiatus, there were a few songs that really called to me, and reminded me of our relationship. "Good" was one of them. Because things really were good (whoa-uh-oh-uh-oh it was good) when we were together, and I missed that. ("Time Ago" by Black Lab became another song that made me cry.) Do I regret the hiatus? Definitely not - I travelled, had a lot of fun and life experiences that I wouldn't have had if I'd been part of a couple. But it was definitely good (good, good, good, good) to reconnect with him in the summer of 1999. And things have only gotten better. (But I still tell him that I only stay with him for the sake of Zuzu, just on general principles. We've also talked about getting divorced just to help the statistics, but we're probably too lazy. Besides, nothing would change aside from our insurance rates.)
steps away from the way-back nostalgia machine
For those of you who care about fiber and so on, I started on the last ball of the variegated yarn for the blanket. Less than 40 rows to go, and the blanket will be finished. Had a nice time at knitting group tonight; saw a few people who hadn't been for many months. Shared some leftover cake; there is less leftover now.
Anyway, Zuzu is telling me that it is bedtime. I should listen to the kitty, as she is looking out for my best interests.