Coffee with the past

Today I had coffee with the redhead. The one who I was such good friends with. The one who I stupidly got into a relationship with and promptly screwed over. Yeah, that one. The problem with relationships is that when you end them you remember the bad stuff. How it wasn’t working out. How it was stupid to go there in the first place. Then you see them again five years later and remember what it was you loved so much about them. I’m not saying I would ever go there again, because I wouldn’t. Its just I wish things didn’t have to be the way they are, you know. I have to admit it was with some trepidation that I rocked up to Alleluia Cafe in St Kevins Arcade.

I didn’t have a coffee before I left home this morning.  It was about 2.30 pm when I arrived at Alleluia and I can’t say I was feeling exactly alive.  I saw her sitting by the window, went over.  She said hi and I sat down.  It was a bit awkward. We hadn’t sat and talked since, oh, March 11, 2005 to be exact.  We made small talk and I ordered a flat white.  Then we talked about the past four years, what’s happened, what’s changed, what life’s like now.  Twilight came up.  She talked about how she had gotten hooked on the books despite their obvious flaws (bad writing for a start), and how she became hung up on Edward.  Why would you not want an obsessive, controlling boyfriend who refuses to have sex with you?  Wait a minute…  Anyway, we talked for about an hour and a half, then wandered off down Queen Street.  We stopped at Real Groovy so she could pick up a copy of Karen O’s excellent Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack, then I walked her to the bottom of town to catch the train home.

The problem with this whole thing is that she has quite effectively made me remember what it was I loved so much about her.  I miss being her friend.  I miss the quirkiness, and the way we knew each other well enough to understand some things without having to say them.  And how she still wanted me to spell things out.  I was never good at that.  I miss just hanging out, and talking, and being, and everything.  And nothing.

I dug out the redhead file, initially to check when her birthday is because I know its coming up soon.  I read through a bunch of old cards and letters and general awesomeness from when we were friends.  They were the best of times and the worst of times.  Is it selfish of me to want to be friends again?  I feel like it is, but I can’t help it.

Auckland Domain, October 23, 2001

Auckland Domain, October 23, 2001

I’m sorry I was such a bad friend.

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