To Rewrite

The other night my second hottest guy friend dropped me off around 1 AM, stopping in briefly before saying good bye for the night.  I wanted to introduce him to my friend Mia, but we were too late; Mia was already tucked away in her bedroom and under her covers for the night.

And so he drove home, and I readied for sleep.  But before I completed my routine, Mia got out of bed, and readied herself for a late night guitar lesson.

The next day Mia demonstrated the three chords she had learned – A, E, and D – and explained she and her instructor (i.e. some handsome guy) had stayed up all night, watching the sunrise from her LA rooftop.  She pointed to the flowers in the kitchen; along with his guitar expertise, he had brought along a gorgeous arrangement of white roses from the film set he had been working on that day.

Suddenly I was jealous – Mia’s evening was far more epic and romantic than mine.

                                                                                                                     

But even in hearing her tell of her night, I was reminded of a near similar evening I had on a cruise ship years ago with this guy named Jeremiah.  After the disco closed for the night, we stayed up playing War – the never ending card game.  He suggested, “I think we need to put some stakes on this game.  How about if you win, I have to buy you a drink?  And if I win, you have to stay up all night to watch the sun rise with me? “  I agreed.  After all, I reasoned, either way was a win for me.  This guy was one of the most attractive men I had ever met up in my life and I had no qualms spending additional time with him.

We were both seniors in college, on Spring Break with our friends.  He was the quarterback at some school I can’t recall the name of, but I’m rather certain it was located somewhere in the state of Wisconsin.  He and his other buddies on the ship had nicknamed me Ginger, and my other friends not.  (Okay, so Jeremiah told me they called my other friends the nuns.  Ironically the “nuns” all married now and I’m the one who is still single and sex free.) 

I can’t remember who won the game of War that night, but following the win, we stayed up chatting until well after 4 AM.  It was then that I mentioned wanting to stop in at my room, so Jeremiah walked me back to my cabin, grabbing an arrangement of flowers on the way to present to my friend Emily upon our arrival.  I had told Jeremiah it was her 22^nd birthday, so he insisted on bringing her a “gift.”  Since all the shops were already closed for the night he didn’t think the Cruise Ship folks would mind if he took a few flowers from a table in the corridor. 

After waking up Emily (which I’m sure she loved) and wishing her Happy Birthday with the floral arrangement, Jeremiah and I conversed in the corridor for a half hour more.  But rather than going up to the top deck to watch the sunrise, I opted to call it a night.

But if I could rewrite that night all over, I would have stayed up to watch the sun rise with him.

I never saw him again after we parted ways that night.  I had assumed we’d find each other on the ship the next day before we docked and that we’d exchange contact information at that time.  But instead, that late night good bye was our last good bye.

I find it’s not uncommon for the final good bye to come before you know it’s through.

I’ve always preferred hello.