This songs matters to me, because: (your explanation here)

Wow.

I'm so glad you decided to "stay among the living" H-B.

 

Now that's a fucking memory, HB. Thanks for sharing that.

 

that's cuz she was probably cougerin' your young ass

 

*Bump* for more stories.

 

Let me see if I can help you out. ...

 

I'd love that. I've enjoyed your stories thus far.

 

More than 20 years had passed, and I had only been physical with one woman. She was the target of my first kiss on New Year Eve, 1999, and my first make-out session eight minutes later in 2000. The natural progression followed for the next 13 months until we had sex on Feb. 16, 2001 -- almost seven years ago (wow). I only thought I'd ever be with one woman, and that was always more than OK with me. I was in love. She was in love. And we were so happy for so many weeks, months and years -- at least I thought we were.

But we split shortly after beginning my junior year of college, her sophomore year. She cheated on me probably more times than I know -- with at least two of my friends, one of whom I still consider a brother -- including going pretty far with some dude in high school while I was a freshman away from home. So it wasn't like she was a saint. In fact, when we were breaking up in September of 2003, that's one of the things she threw in my face: "How do you know you want to spend the rest of your life with me when you haven't experienced anyone else?" Of course, that was code for "I've been blowing the guy on the fourth floor since the end of August," but I was a fool in love, grasping onto the only thing -- and person -- I'd ever really known and loved. "I know because I love you," I said, "and that's enough for me."

She walked out of my room, leaving me in tears because my life was fucking done, at least I thought so. The thought of finding someone else was the furthest from my mind. I wanted to hold out hope for her, even though she was holding hands -- and much, much more -- with a drug-addicted, fraternity fuckwad, who lived a floor below me.

(When we split, it all made sense. She used to come up to my room by way of the stairs instead of an elevator. Then she'd blow me and go back downstairs -- most likely to make herself feel less guilt and make me even more oblivious to the matter.)

But that didn't matter to me. I only wanted her. I only wanted to do anything physically with one person.

Until I met Angela.

Angela was different. Like my ex-girlfriend -- and me -- she loved punk rock. But she didn't just listen to the music. She was the music. She was an average-looking but pretty girl; nothing too special, but very intriguing. She had bleached blond hair, a belly ring and a tongue ring. But it was her attitude that really attracted me to her. Angela didn't give a shit what people thought. She was a great person, too.

She got a hold of me after a meeting one night and told me she was attracted to me. She heard I was single, and if I wanted to forget about my ex-girlfriend for a night, I should let her know. And I did. But not at first.

I was caught. On one hand, here's an opportunity to see what I was "missing," so to speak. On the other, I didn't want to do anything to damage the shot of getting back with the ex. After speaking with Angela over the next few days, she told me the offer still stood and invited me over, so I bit -- a little before she did.

I still felt guilty, like I was cheating on my ex-girlfriend. I just couldn't shake the feeling. So I told Angela I'd be at her place late at night, and she left her door unlocked. I took the long walk, which seemed like miles because of the anxiety. When I knocked on her door, she smiled and told me to sit down.

I was so nervous. We spent the first hour talking and the next two watching Mallrats. I was at the beginning of my Kevin Smith phase, which has lasted almost five years to date. We were even sitting on different beds, which should tell you how uneasy even being in her room was making me. Her roommate had left for the night because Angela had "plans." And I was pissing them away.

But I'll never forget this sight. During our talk, we spoke about the concerts we've seen through the years. While I thought I was a pro, seeing a dozen shows, this girl had seen a dozen shows of a dozen different bands; she basically toured with The Movielife, seeing them 16 times before they split at the end of 2003. Then we started talking about our favorite songs, and, while sitting on her bed with her back leaning against the wall, she started playing air guitar and singing the opening lyrics to Goldfinger's "Question." Her voice wasn't great, and the stud in her tongue didn't really help the articulation, but seeing Angela lose herself in her music was such a beautiful site.

"You got some question about your life
You don't know how you'll ever make it through
It hurts so bad, but it's all you got
You're asking me for help
But all I got to say now is that
You don't know what pain is
You haven't suffered one iota
So just stop your whining
You don't know what pain is

Stop complaining, point your finger
I'll tell you who to blame"

She finished and I was enamored. A few hours ago, she was this plain, punk rock chick with piercings. Now she more beautiful than I could have imagined -- with the exception of that blue Yankees shirt she threw on to spite me.

We shot each other glances through the movie. We'd laugh and smile at each other, just like we were back in eighth grade -- except a girl was talking to me. After the movie, she invited me to her bed and I made the voyage. I sat to her right and, around 3:30 a.m., there was a pause in the conversation. I looked at her and said, "So, I should probably kiss you now, huh?" She said, "I think that'd be a great idea."

And we did -- for the next 90 minutes. We made out passionately. It was just so different than with my ex-girlfriend. Angela was forceful, and I dug it. She bit my lip, threw me onto my back, grabbed the back of my neck and pushed my face into hers. And I did the same to her. I tried to take things further, but she said, "Not now. Not tonight." I didn't give a shit. This was great, and nothing could spoil it.

I left at 5:30 a.m., and walked back to my room. I had a night's worth of homework to do and class in less than four hours. But I wasn't thinking about that. All I could do was play that song over and over in my head, watching Angela bounce her head to the beat, smiling as the words slipped through her lips. And then I felt mine. My bottom lip was twice its size and hurt like hell. But for the first time in a month, I was OK with the pain.

Angela was never anything more than a great release, romantically. She and I were good friends through college and we almost hooked up once more. She got married soon after graduation, and we haven't spoken since. But I still can't hear that song without thinking of her. And I always replay that night, never without a smile. It was truly the next step in my life. A great one.

 

Mikey, that was awesome.

 

Thank you, sir. I did it for you.

 

Impressive, Mike.

 

Thanks a bunch, Mr. Leroy.

 

Nice story, Mike. I meant to post something last night, but I was zonked from covering a murder trial and a basketball game the same day.

I really feel like I can relate to you more after reading it.