Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

edith piaf

while i was off not writing my sex blog, this annoying thing happened to me. this thing called love. it was doomed from the start. he was a co-worker and one of those fundamentalist ultra christians, the son of a preacher man. the more time we spent together, the more i tried to warn myself. but then at one particular happy hour that lasted well into the night (oh, how we liked our happy hours), he turned to me and said, "drinking dirty martinis always makes me want to kiss someone."

giddy from the shots of patron he'd been buying me, i told him, "well, i'm not gonna stop you."

let me just tell you—boy was a damn good kisser. i know this not from the quick kisses he snuck in as we sat at the bar next to a couple of our other coworkers, but because when he followed me out to my car to get a pack of cigarettes, we sat in the very back and made out long enough that said coworkers actually called his phone looking for us.

oops.

and then, that was that. well, as far as the kissing went anyway. but as school let out and summer began, we hung out more and more and the flirting and extra long hugs and the curling up on the couch together and him spending the night in my bed (without any sort of action) continued. one of my favorite memories with him is the night we went to see la vie en rose together in an old, grand theater, where we sat in the balcony and shared the arm rest between us as edith piaf's music and (rather embellished upon) life story tugged at our hearts. he had just made up his mind to go work in a country on the other side of the world for the next year (or possibly, two) and we were both feeling a little raw and vulnerable.

ok, so i was pretty much devastated.

a couple of weeks later, i hid it well as a group of coworkers came together at his place to wish him farewell, but i stayed after everyone had left and loaded the two-disc mix i had made for him onto his ipod for his flight. the first disc was devoted to our time together and all the music, both awesome and shamefully bad, we'd shared. for the second, i basically went with an "i'm so proud of you for taking this awesome step, but please don't leave me" theme with a few sappy love-esque songs thrown in for good measure. (of course, this song made the cut.)

as i gathered my things to leave that night, he pulled me into a tight hug and i cried on his shoulder. i whispered into his ear, "please don't stay for the second year."

he hugged me tighter and said, "take this with you."

and then he kissed me.

meg