lights go out and i can't be saved

"They say there's a heaven for those who will wait. Some say it's better, but I say it ain't. I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints... the sinners are much more fun."

During my commute home this evening, I got to thinking about what I horrible person I have become in the last few years. And nearly all of it can be attributed to one person... Matt a.k.a. my first love a.k.a. The One That Got Away.

Before I met Matt I was a nice little Catholic girl with values and morals. In no way am I saying that I was a Republican with Republican morals. I was eighteen and he was two months away from being twenty-five. He inspired me to get my fake ID. He never suggested it, but I was sick of trying to go to bars with him and nearly getting kicked out. Many times I gave the waitress or doorman pleading eyes and they let me stay, but served me kiddie cocktails instead of the black and tan I ordered. Often times we would go out after work and I would know it was coming. I would think about for the duration of the work day and wonder whether or not I would have luck at the particular bar he chose.

He had an east coast accent -- I would just say it was that of a person from Philadelphia, but I don't know if those accents are distinct enough. He was full of chivalry and insisted to walk on the street side no matter what. He may sound like a jerk who was just trying to show-off, but it wasn't like that. He called me at work when he was out of town and we would talk for hours long distance. I was failing at work.

I drove to his apartment one evening after work in my beat-up 1990 rusty Cavallier and we walked to a Mexican restaurant around the corner from him. I was all skanked out in some jean skirt and hooker boots with a white shirt that my friend Amy and I swore by (meaning any guy we wore it around always complimented us; we shared the shirt). Anyway, I had too many margaritas and nothing to eat. Every time I would get up to go to the bathroom he would stand up and every time I came back he would do the same. His parents were rich and we ran into them a few times while we were walking around his neighborhood, as he lived a few blocks from them. They were nice, but I could tell, especially in the case of his mother, that she was wondering what the hell he was doing with me... the 18 year-old freshman.

I would sneak home from school ninety miles my freshman year to spend entire weekends with him. We never did anything except go to movies or bars and I didn't care. I loved him and his leather gloves and his blue eyes. I would never want to leave; I'd stay Sunday nights and leave Monday and miss my classes. At this point he didn't have a job (and I didn't care). I was so blinded by how cool he was and all the crazy things he said to me. When I didn't have a car at school I would beg my friends for rides to see him.

The most memorable time was when he picked me up from one of the northern suburbs. I had hitched a ride with my R.A. to her house. He borrowed his parents car to get me from there. We sat in rush hour traffic for three hours and I DIDN'T care. I got kicked out of Binny's Beverage Depot in Lincoln Park for not having a valid ID. I lied to my friends and family and spent an inconceivable amount of time with him. I was obsessed. I would puke and cry after he would walk me to my car and I would be on my way back to Bloomington, Illinois or wherever I was staying. I went to D.C. for Spring break that March I was dating him with Amy and we went to the bar in Georgetown where he worked... on 31st & M. We went to the bar where he mentioned (ultra briefly) his best friend worked as a bouncer. The goal was to set my best friend up with him. He had a girl hanging all over him the whole time though. It was a crazy few months that I will never forget as long as I live.

When I was at school and away from him, I played the song "Clocks" by Coldplay over and over because it reminded me of us. I talked with him on Instant Messenger all the time and refreshed my e-mail every twenty-five seconds in anticipation of a note from him.

Restaurants, songs, bars, streets, cigarettes and beginning to smoke -- everything overwhelmingly reminded me of him for a long time. It has slowly dimished. Now I wish him well and hope I get to see him again, at least once, to thank him. And all along I thought I that he was "it". And all along I was just a naive little girl in a big relationship that was going no where fast.