I'm off. Outside of that, there is not much to report.

That whole "not much to report" bit from above.

An absolute ton of MP3s mixed in with an occasional scene from Tin Cup.

Warmed up, left over pizza.

What the hell did I smoke before bed last night?

9 Sept. 2001
First grade.

9 Sept. 2000
No entry.


<< back | next >>

Navigation Bar

Quote du jour:
"It's bittersweet to look back now... At memories withered on the vine. Just to hold you close to me... For a moment in time." -- Trisha Yearwood, "I Would Have Loved You Anyway"

I was at a party or something. I don't really remember. Somewhere where there were people in another room and a bed -- a single bed up against a wall -- in the room where I was. But I wasn't alone. Lindsay was there, too.

It had been months since
Lindsay and I had seen each other. Months since we'd spoken. Months... No, years, since she'd told me that she hated me and that she never wanted to see me again. But there we were sitting on the bed and talking. Her at one end, facing the other propped up with her right hand. I was in the middle of the mattress in a mirrored position. I was close enough for ours to be an intimate conversation but far enough away to not be threatening. Yet, something inside of me wanted to be closer to her. And then the touching began.

I've read about how certain forms of touch signify a sense of security and a sense of comfort. This was that kind of touch. The hand of one touching the knee of the other. Her hand touching mine. These were all signs of something. I could have told you that even without my prior study in the matter because I could feel it inside of me. My brain told me that it was all wrong... That people who parted ways like we did should never be in this situation. Yet, I was comfortable and I wanted to be there.

Somehow, there was a hug involved. I could feel her wrapped up in my arms. I had forgotten how much I missed that. Our bodies fit well together. We shifted positions and suddenly I was flat on my back with her hovering over me, arms extended with her hands on either side of my head. She said, sweetly but in a matter of fact way, "I'll give you a back rub or sex." Decisions... Decisions...

I'll be honest, I felt like I needed a good back rub. And it was as clear as day in my head that sex with
Lindsay was going to cause more problems than it would solve. I actually thought about Jessie for a split second. What would she think? She'd be pissed at me. Even though it would be great to be one with Lindsay again... I'd have hell to live with when I told Jessie. And I'd have to tell her. I couldn't lie to her about this again. All of these thoughts... and more... passed through my head in a matter of milliseconds. With my mind made up, I paused mostly for dramatic effect and answered her.


I wanted to go back to a place I hadn't been since the spring of 2000. I've said this a million times, but the sex with her had never been great. The lovemaking, however, was awesome. It was with her that I felt passion course through my entire being for the first time. With her, I felt like two people making a physical and emotional connection... Not jut using each other to get off. Granted, I don't think she ever felt the same... But it didn't matter. Selfishly, I wanted to go back. I wanted one more shot.

I don't think the sex was going to happen right then and there. Afterall, there was a party going on. People were around. It would be later on... when we were really alone. The time and place didn't matter. The spark inside me was back. I felt alive. I was happy like I haven't been in a while. And then... In typical Fletch fashion... I woke up. Literally.

<< back | next >>