That Guy...
We passed in the hallway, twice with polite interest, and the last time I said,” are you Jones?” It had been 5 years earlier that we'd traveled in the same circles, but our acquaintance hadn’t been based on more than a friendly wave. My time in Maryland had been mostly focused on school and boys. But he had never been one of those boys.
I spent most of the spring of 1998 in the arms of another Navy guy, a pretty poet type, Jesse (see left). Boys in Navy whites always appealed to me with their traditional bell bottomed pants and smart blue scarves. They looked like something swept out of a 1940’s war poster. This particular boy was different and I raved about his intelligent discourse to my roommate at the time, who seemed vaguely interested until she found out he wasn’t old enough to buy us beer. That realtionship was brief, as was that time in my life. My memories of Jesse and his friends were almost faded by the time I ran into Jones.
It took me a second to remember his name, but when he smiled and said, "yeah...", I remembered that wicked grin from afternoons spent in the quad, smoking and bitching about school. It was kind of a relief to see something familiar in that place. Maryland was my tech school location and my time spent there in 1998 passed very quickly and ended on, quite possibly, one of the more sour notes in my young life. Seeing Jones allowed me to remember times in Maryland that had been happier.
I expected to see him around school during my trip, but didn’t assume we’d be having any “catch-up” time. He surprised me with an invitation to be interviewed for a journalism assignment he had. Being the gregarious and self-absorbed girl that I am, I accepted. I love any opportunity to talk about myself. :) The questions were light hearted, and thanks to a bottle of Cabernet, there wasn't any awkwardness. I stifled hysterical laughter as he called my father for a quote. "Drunken Erin" seemed to think it would be a good idea... My father, being an old navy guy himself, commiserated about sea life and didn’t seem too perturbed when Jones referred to him as, “Pop”. I never even had the balls to refer to him as that.
Over the next few weeks, hilarity ensued. Jones became my instant adventure partner. We went all over and saw the sites in Washington D.C., Annapolis, and Maryland. He made me lots of good drinks, (cause everyone knows I’m helpless when it comes to making my own) and insisted that I watch American Psycho with him. It took me three days to finish it. We kept on having to stop the movie when I’d get too freaked out. So then we’d play Uno until I was able to finally fall asleep.
We braved a giant blizzard together. The entire base was shut down and our only link to the outside world was the Shoppette. He rented a VCR and bought lots of liquor and hot pockets and somehow we survived. Long nights of Uno and Monopoly… (he’s unbeatable…) and talks and sleeping and drinking and kissing and sleeping and drinking. It was a great time. About a month of great times. I used to pad down the hall in my pajamas, trying to be quiet so the girls in my class wouldn’t suspect anything and start gossiping about me.
And then it was over. I finished my class, but he still had weeks of school to go. After I left, we said we’d stay in touch, but we didn’t. He took up with his current amour and I went back to Denver and fell in love with Tim.
Then, months and months later… a cryptic message on my blog. A tentative email. And suddenly he was back. Not the way he had been before, but in a much bigger capacity. He became one of my most unexpected best friends. He became my poetry sounding board, my personal comedian, and sometime prank caller. My wonderful friend who I hope will always be there to make me laugh and offer to off my boss for me.
I think that Harry missed the boat when he said that men and women can't be friends. I think it can happen when that tension that is unresolved is no longer there and in it's place is mutual respect and admiration. Well, that and the fact that I drooled on your arm that one time. That really killed it didn't it? :)
I miss you Jonesy... Come back home safe.
I spent most of the spring of 1998 in the arms of another Navy guy, a pretty poet type, Jesse (see left). Boys in Navy whites always appealed to me with their traditional bell bottomed pants and smart blue scarves. They looked like something swept out of a 1940’s war poster. This particular boy was different and I raved about his intelligent discourse to my roommate at the time, who seemed vaguely interested until she found out he wasn’t old enough to buy us beer. That realtionship was brief, as was that time in my life. My memories of Jesse and his friends were almost faded by the time I ran into Jones.
It took me a second to remember his name, but when he smiled and said, "yeah...", I remembered that wicked grin from afternoons spent in the quad, smoking and bitching about school. It was kind of a relief to see something familiar in that place. Maryland was my tech school location and my time spent there in 1998 passed very quickly and ended on, quite possibly, one of the more sour notes in my young life. Seeing Jones allowed me to remember times in Maryland that had been happier.
I expected to see him around school during my trip, but didn’t assume we’d be having any “catch-up” time. He surprised me with an invitation to be interviewed for a journalism assignment he had. Being the gregarious and self-absorbed girl that I am, I accepted. I love any opportunity to talk about myself. :) The questions were light hearted, and thanks to a bottle of Cabernet, there wasn't any awkwardness. I stifled hysterical laughter as he called my father for a quote. "Drunken Erin" seemed to think it would be a good idea... My father, being an old navy guy himself, commiserated about sea life and didn’t seem too perturbed when Jones referred to him as, “Pop”. I never even had the balls to refer to him as that.
Over the next few weeks, hilarity ensued. Jones became my instant adventure partner. We went all over and saw the sites in Washington D.C., Annapolis, and Maryland. He made me lots of good drinks, (cause everyone knows I’m helpless when it comes to making my own) and insisted that I watch American Psycho with him. It took me three days to finish it. We kept on having to stop the movie when I’d get too freaked out. So then we’d play Uno until I was able to finally fall asleep.
We braved a giant blizzard together. The entire base was shut down and our only link to the outside world was the Shoppette. He rented a VCR and bought lots of liquor and hot pockets and somehow we survived. Long nights of Uno and Monopoly… (he’s unbeatable…) and talks and sleeping and drinking and kissing and sleeping and drinking. It was a great time. About a month of great times. I used to pad down the hall in my pajamas, trying to be quiet so the girls in my class wouldn’t suspect anything and start gossiping about me.
And then it was over. I finished my class, but he still had weeks of school to go. After I left, we said we’d stay in touch, but we didn’t. He took up with his current amour and I went back to Denver and fell in love with Tim.
Then, months and months later… a cryptic message on my blog. A tentative email. And suddenly he was back. Not the way he had been before, but in a much bigger capacity. He became one of my most unexpected best friends. He became my poetry sounding board, my personal comedian, and sometime prank caller. My wonderful friend who I hope will always be there to make me laugh and offer to off my boss for me.
I think that Harry missed the boat when he said that men and women can't be friends. I think it can happen when that tension that is unresolved is no longer there and in it's place is mutual respect and admiration. Well, that and the fact that I drooled on your arm that one time. That really killed it didn't it? :)
I miss you Jonesy... Come back home safe.
posted by saucybritches at
7/06/2005 05:40:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home