oh I did get the late-night booty call again and was bored enough to accept. but I think that’s gotta be it – second time not as good, and yeah, I really don’t actually like you. I tried to get in touch again a week later and first you ignored me, then you texted at 2 a.m. and didn’t even bother to come fuck me. so fuck you.

not even my type, but what can i say? he was there and he made his interest clear right away. probably an asshole and not particularly attractive to me, but he does know how to touch. i like that firm touch, someone who knows what they want. he was way more attentive than i’ve had recently. i even had an orgasm – and i almost never do that on a first date. (this is not the place to discuss badannie’s trust issues, dear reader, we’re going to gloss right over that.)

how it started: his fingers were salty from the food and he offered them to me (remember this is about 30 minutes after we’d met!). i declined but he said, you have to admit it was a romantic gesture. i said yes but it really was just that i didn’t want the salt. so he brushes off the salt, dips his finger in the olive oil and offers me that instead. wow. ballsy. and what did badannie do? i took that finger right in my mouth and licked it. guess that pretty much set the stage.

he and m. went off to another party and i admit i spent a good part of the rest of the day thinking about that finger and what it could do.

later: late night visit, making out with a giant thunderstorm in the background. sex, sleep, sex again very early in the morning. and yep, couldn’t stop myself from starting up a third again later. earlier in the evening i had paid him $4 to take his clothes off – joking, of course, but i made him keep it the next day so he could be my man whore.

did m. set this up as a pity fuck? who cares. i liked it and i needed it. badannie doesn’t want him as a boyfriend but i wouldn’t mind another roll or two before we go on our way.

bad annie’s bad deed back in january? he turned 25 over the weekend. yipes.

really, is there anything better? you know each other’s needs so well and yet have so little left at stake. really good, really nice sex. i needed that! it’s right up there with first-time hottie sex.

yes, I thought he didn’t want me any more. yes, i was pissed at him. but what are my choices? stay mad or get laid? what do you think I chose?

oh yes, bad annie got laid all damn week.

bad annie was very bad last night. what’s with all these young boys? I really, truly don’t think I have a thing for them — but there I was, drunk and really in no shape to be exercising judgment. When he kissed me, well, bad annie’s been on a dry spell, I kissed him right back. and then I took him home. I knew it was bad while I was doing it but I just so needed this milestone to be behind me. it was good to be naked with someone again. He talked about love! ex-boy never once used that word in my presence except that one time talking about his ex. anyway i hope he had fun and i hope he doesn’t take it any more seriously than that. he’s a valuable employee, i’d had to make uncle d. have choose between us.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

I really am that naive.  How is that even fucking possible?

You really thought it was ok to ask my friend where you could go on a date that you wouldn’t run into me?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

You really thought it was ok to ignore me, refuse to answer me in person, on line, on email, at all?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

You really thought it was ok to come back and fuck me afterwards?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Ain’t nothing good about this day. Unidentified creepy bugs last night, unwelcome revelations today.

But I didn’t smoke. I put in lipstick, boots, tight jeans, ordered a beer. But I didn’t smoke.

I don’t like talking about my feelings anyway. all I really wanted was for it to be okay, and it is. so we’ll just leave it at that.

Two bottles of wine later and we find out we knew the same people, like 18 years ago? She dated Michael Gentile ?!?! She’s friends with Danny? 

When was the last time I was on a date anyway — it might have been Danny. Either Danny or Kelly. Wish I could find Kelly. 

I want to call Danny and say hi and catch up, but I won’t. What’s the point, I wasn’t very nice to him then,  I probably won’t be again now.

1995: I returned to the office after my grandfather’s funeral and found the messages. Who leaves a voice mail at the office telling you a friend has died? My friends do.

“Mr. Daniels moved to Baltimore sometime around 1987.” Our life together, our love, reduced to one factual statement that doesn’t even include reference to me. It feels like my grief has somehow lost legitimacy.

I read the obituary and cry – now it seems final, now it seems real. I’m desperate for context, wanting to grieve with others who knew him, who knew us.

Andy seems so distant. Am I the only one who has forgotten our grievances, allowed time to heal? I cry all the time, trying to hide it from Stewart, who doesn’t understand and would be angry if he did.

Craig and I met in early 1987 and went on our first date on Valentine’s Day. We were young and happy. We moved into a big house in Patterson Park with Andy-now-Andrew as our roommate. I loved that house, exposed brick and huge kitchen, patios, library, rose garden and all.

From Feb 1987 to Feb 1988 I fell in love; moved in with my first serious boyfriend; watched a dear friend painfully lose sanity and even more painfully commit suicide; was stalked by an ex-co-worker; got pregnant; had an abortion; worked my first ‘real’ job; left my first serious boyfriend; and moved to New York.

He was going to leave me anyway – each of our reactions to my pregnancy terrified the other. An ardent feminist with a long volunteer resume of clinic defense, I felt that I really did have a choice. Here I was, with a secure job, health insurance, a house whose landlord was open to rent-to-buy options, and most importantly, in a committed and monogamous relationship with a man I loved. I thought it was careless and irresponsible not to consider the options before making a decision.

He thought I was nuts. He had no intention of raising a child, settling down or even discussing the issue. Afterwards – after the days and weeks of tears, accusations (“I’m not forcing you into anything, I’m just not going to play any part in it”), after I’d insisted on general anesthesia because I couldn’t face what I was doing – after it was all over, and we’d settled into a relative, uneasy calm, he said maybe we should back off the relationship a little. Not break up, maybe just get separate apartments.

He decided to have this discussion the same day my boss announced that he was selling the business and taking a select few colleagues to New York to start a new publication.

Craig went out to run an errand and I picked up the phone to call Russ. I still remember how terrified I was to call (what if he didn’t want me?). I’m still surprised I actually did it. But by the time Craig returned, I had accepted a position in New York, details to be discussed over drinks that evening.

And that was, effectively, the end of my life with Craig. In the weeks that followed, I got busy with details of the move and began the process of distancing myself from him.

I look at the photos Andy sent me, and I’m reminded of how much I loved him. But the surprisingly bitter sense of loss is accompanied by an equally bitter sense of disappointment – a reminder of a man who let me down.

He is eulogized for his charm, quirkiness, imagination and humor, for tiring of assignments that paid the bills, for taking risks in his career.

While we cry, while we remember, while we grieve, let’s not forget the price paid for those talents. Childlike and unwilling to accept responsibility: he is eulogized for the same qualities I left him for.

We don’t honor our dead by lying about them. I’m angry – I am reminded of a hurt I thought was long past, and angry at no longer having a man to blame – just a memory, and that hardly seems fair.