"That Guy"

There are moments in which songs instantly come to me, when they before made no sense. For the last year I had been dealing with what seemed like a constant back and forth with Chris; at least in my own mind. It was obvious how I felt to this point, and it seemed to me it was obvious how he felt. Chris’ birthday was two days before my own, and at this point we didn’t talk to each other for a couple of months. Not so much that we had something go wrong between us, but the last time we talked he made mention of in a couple of months he was going to be done with his first year in AA, and he wanted to talk then about seeing each other. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I figured that I didn’t want to pressure him to feel one way or another. So I messaged him on his birthday in the morning telling him happy birthday, and right before I got off work I got a message asking me to see him.

Right after work I drove through the worst rainstorm I had ever been in, which should have been a sign; but nothing was going to stop me from seeing him. So we went to dinner with his friends, and they came over and then they all left and I was going to leave but he made it seem like he wanted me there and to take off work the next day to hang out. So I did, still in my mind thinking that something was going in a month once he was done with his first year in AA. After that he made it very clearly that he wasn’t interested in dating me after his first year, he physically at least was off limits. In the morning I woke up, about an hour or two before he did; like all the times we did when we shared a bed. After a couple of minutes I went on his porch to smoke a cigarette. Allowing me for the first time to understand and enjoy Tori Amos’ “That Guy,” without even having to listen to it; it came to me. Magically I felt what she was feeling in that song.

After he woke up we had lunch, and went to the same mall we went to several times before; and he said he wanted to get me something for my birthday. My response was what was true, that I got what I wanted for my birthday; to spend it with him. Ever so determined still not knowing my truth, I said I wanted his hoodie that was Green, Blue and Yellow. The same hoodie I would wear when I would stay with him, because it was bright and felt like it belonged to me. In the end I guess it did belong to me, while he did not. Once I drove him back, I stood for a couple of hours; and he fell asleep and I enjoyed the last moments of my birthday, and my last moments with him. Now every time I wear the hoodie, I think of him. Every time I smoke a cigarette I do. Every time I hear “That Guy,” I think of him, and try to stop thinking of him at every chance he pops up.