I have had a lot of relationships in my life and all of them
were so VERY different from one another.
Good, bad, indifferent, short, long, eternity, hell and then ANOTHER
level of hell. But the most perfect
relationship that I ever had, that one relationship that was such bliss that I
sometimes catch myself still day dreaming about, was the one that never
happened.
Let me set the scene, I LOVE setting the scene and this
story of a “didn’t happen love affair” is no different. I was 26 at the time
and I had just been promoted to manager of a new wine tasting room of a sister
winery from California to the Missouri winery where I was working (that’s a
tongue twister story of wineries. Actually it’s not; I just don’t know how else
to explain it). It was only a few weeks until Oktoberfest and our little town
of 3000 people was going to be overrun by 50,000 drunk patrons traipsing
through our tiny German style village, pissing and fornicating on our lawns for
a month…we like to keep up with old world
traditions. It wasn’t that bad
all the time, but when things did get a tad too rowdy you just had to get the
hose and spray them down to make them to flee off into the shadows.
Like I said it was a new winery that was opening and the
sister winery next door wasn’t going to spare me any of their workers to help
through the festival. So naturally I thought to go to a competitor winery in
town that had the most complaints and biggest record of disgruntled employees
and try to poach servers from them. I find one of the town ladies who knew
EVERYTHING about EVERYONE, who was employed there and inquired about if she was
interested in changing teams. To no avail I could not sway her from going from
the merlot colored polo shirts at that winery, to the cab colored polo of a
different winery. Midwest wineries have the worst dress code ever. Polo’s…how
ordinary. However, she did the next best
thing; she called over another woman around her age, let’s calls her Beverly,
and asked if her son was still looking for a job. Beverly’s eyes lit up and she made a b-line
towards me. Yes, indeed her son was still looking for a job and she couldn’t
have been happier for me to come in. She was so excited and kept saying to me
how good looking her son was and that he was a hard worker. I kind of almost just wanted to ask Beverly
to work for me instead of her son because she has so much spunk and energy…I
could use that. But, her son was good looking in her mind and I thought I could
use that to help my sales of white sugar wine to yuppie, 20 something girls
from the city. I thought of the tips we could get.
Through our conversation the three of us discovered that I
had, in fact, gone to high school with Beverly’s son. He was a few grades below me and I honestly
had no memory of him. I was a senior and I couldn’t be bothered to think of any
one from the classes beneath me, I was going places… Anyway, I got his
information, name and number, but I made it very clear that Beverly needed to
tell him that I was going to call him later that night. I didn’t want him to
answer and be like “who is this crazy bitch and why she be calling me?” Beverly
hands me the piece of paper with his number and name; “Wyatt.” Now for legal purposes and for the fact that
I don’t want to be sued that is not his name, but it’s pretty close.
After work I thumb through my old senior yearbook to find a
picture of Wyatt, he would have been a sophomore at time and it was closest
picture of him that I could find. I wanted to confirm that he was just as
handsome as him mother said he was. Hmm. It’s hard to tell much of anything
from a high school year book in a mostly German decent town. Everyone looked pretty white washed, and I’m
not kidding. That school was just as
white and as diverse as a saltine cracker, pun intended. Again, I couldn’t tell
much besides from the billabong clothing, surfer shell necklace and frosted
tipped hair told me that this guy was a “bro”. Ugh, oh well. I thought of the
cookie cut out girls who would fawn over him as they guzzled down the wine and,
again, the tips he would bring in. Wyatt would be an investment for my wallet.
I give him a ring and do an over the phone interview. This guy could not be less enthused with the
job I was offering. The exhausted tone
in his voice told me that this was the LAST thing he wanted to be doing with
his weekends. I ask a few basic interview questions, “Do you know much about
wine?” “No.” “Have you ever been a server before?” “No.” “Have you ever worked
a festival before?” “No, BUT I have been to a lot of Oktoberfest’s in the
past.” I was desperate for anyone right now and pretty much if he was a
functioning adult he had the job. “Ok, well, you’re hired. Come in on Friday to
fill out the paper work and do a little training before the weekend.” One down,
only 20 more to go.
I was able to scrounge up a motley crew of workers and for
everyone who hasn’t worked in wine before I have them come in for a bit of
training, which was just watching me serve other people and answer questions. I try to do everyone individually because
there can be some intimidation when it comes to something so vast as wine,
trust me, I NEVER in a million years thought I could know as much about wine as
I do now. I also find it easier for the
person to ask questions without the fear of sounding stupid with only it being
themselves there. The last to do his
training was Wyatt, best for last, but honestly at that time I just wanted to
get it over with because I was just completely exhausted of repeating myself
over and over and I just wanted to get through the first weekend.
I stood there waiting with another server from the sister
winery who wanted to help me train, let’s call him Pernell. I didn’t really ask
him to help me, he more or less thrusted his help upon the situation. He would ask me in between sessions why he
wasn’t asked to be the manager of the new wine room, but if they would have
asked him he would have said no. I don’t know man, but I can’t handle your 50
year old man insecurities and teach the fine art of wine tasting to novices at
the same time. Have a drink.
Then it happened Wyatt walked in. He looked around and when
his eyes met mine I froze. I have never in my life seen such crystal clear
eyes. Two pools of cool blue water with calm ripples dancing through them as he
nonchalantly looked at me. They were carelessly piercing my marrow as they
sparkled. The only relief I got was when he would blink and I was free from his
gaze. I can’t even begin to describe the pure disgust I have for myself for I
went from wine guru and confident woman to that fat 13 year old girl in middle
school with acne, braces and a perm, who thought it was SUCH a good idea that I
did it TWICE. I felt so inferior and so unworthy to even look at him. I think I may have even farted out of
nervousness. Thank God that Pernell was
there next to me, because if Wyatt noticed I would have blamed it on him. I no
longer had control over myself. I was stumbling over my words, my feet, furniture
that, for some reason, was suddenly throwing itself out in front of me and the AIR.
That fucking air was just getting in my mother fucking way and then leaving for
no reason. I couldn’t breathe. What was wrong with me? I have NEVER in my life
reacted to another human being like this and I had a male model roommate when I
lived in Vancouver. I had been around all sorts of beautiful people but no one gave
me goose bumps like Wyatt did. Point to
you Beverly, your son was gorgeous.
Wyatt was quiet with a collective demeanor and tall, like, a
million feet tall. I was finally able to compose myself and get the training
started. He didn’t bring anything to take notes, which was fine…It totally was
NOT fine, but I told him it was. I knew that this guy was going to be able to
get away with murder with me and I didn’t care. “Here is a free case of wine
and please help yourself to all the money in the register, no one will miss it.
PLEASE LIKE ME!” Training commenced and went as well as driving a truck in the
wrong gear. But as quickly as it
started, it was over. I rushed through
it. I couldn’t handle feeling as awkward as a Mel Brooks character in modern
day cinema. Though at the end when I gave him all the final information and
watched him leave, I was sad rather than relieved, like I thought I would be. I
watched him walk out with that “too cool for school” swagger, with a new hope
for the hellish Oktoberfest that was going to start in a few days, not
realizing that Pernell was watching me watch Wyatt. I looked over at him and he just had this
shit eating grin on his face, like he knew what was going on in my head. Thank
God we had a good rapport with each other because all I had to say to him was,
“Shut the up, Pernell.”
Now comes the little stories, interactions and conversations
that I had with Wyatt that made it the best Oktoberfest of my life. Even though
it was long hours, on my feet all day, serving 1000 of drunks who had no
respect for wine, having to deal with staff members who always had complaints
about thing that I had no control over, inventory numbers that never matched up
and then having to deal with all the cash that was coming in, I couldn’t wait
for it because I knew I was going to see Wyatt every weekend.
I know you will say “Well, you are just infatuated with this
guy’s looks? It sounds like he is kind of a tool. How could you even like him?”
At first, yes, guilty as charged, and which is why I always told myself when it
came to my crush on him, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Meaning, don’t date or get
involved with people at work, it will only end in tears and animosity for
everyone, or lawsuits depending on the person.
Wyatt was nothing but eye candy at the beginning. To be honest I was so busy and rushing around
for the first weekend that I hardly noticed him. I was working so hard to get
that tasting room going and to make sure everyone that I hired kept their jobs.
There were people counting on me. So for that first weekend, my infatuation had
to take the back burner. My millions of bosses were there watching to make sure
everything was running smoothly and if I had everything I needed, which of
course made me nervous. I hate being watched, just waiting for someone to point
out what I did wrong or something I forgot. Even
though it was stressful we all survived the first weekend, not necessarily a
success, but I knew that the tasting room was going to take off. I could breathe
for the first time in 72 hours.
We all got into the swing of things which was for the best
because as the month went on the weekends got worse. The amount of drunken people was just out of
this world. And these weren’t regular
tasters you would see on the cover of Wine Spector magazine. Oh no, these were
pillaging hordes of college students, hoes dressed up in the “beer wench”
costumes (which is really offensive and derogatory), biker gangs after their
Boone’s Farm sweet grape wine, college football fan, bachelorette parties
dressed in every sort penis paraphernalia on the market, packs of “bros” and my
favorite, the clicks of waspy yuppie girls who would walk in their high heeled
boots and wearing their white cashmere sweaters saying, “I just want a nice
light white wine today.” Then stumble
out at closing time covered in purple sweet concord grape wine, with twisted
ankles, broken heeled boots, mascara stained checks because they are crying
after their “bestie” left with the “bro” she was, “Like totally crushing on”,
doing the “I just can’t believe you walked away from me” stare. I watched all
of you with disgust from my window as I drank for FREE.
During the whole month we were all exhausted, amused, but
whipped out. Even the owner, who spent most of the day’s just smoozing and
drinking, was in a state like I have never seen him in before. It’s quite a site to see your 70 year old billionaire
boss come in at closing time as you are getting ready to lock up, with hair all
skewed, dragging his feet, wearing traditional German lederhosen, then casually
just takes a bottle of wine off the shelf and leave without saying a word to me.
“Bye Jim!” How the hell am I supposed to put that down in inventory??? However, the beauty of situations like this
is that it builds a team feeling and relationships with your coworkers. You crack jokes, you depend on each other,
you have each other’s back, you solve problems together, you build friendships
and I grew to care about everyone that I worked with…except Phyllis. I fucking hated Phyllis.
Everyone had a special spot in my heart, but no one had a
spot like Wyatt did. I remember just
watching him walk passed the window in the morning heading into work and just
feeling all my stress melt away. Seeing
him was always a huge sigh of relief because I felt safe around him. And not
the kind of safe like he’s not going to try anything…damn it. I felt safe
because I knew that I could depend on him and he would be there if I needed him
to do something, and he always was. Even when I knew when the night before he
had been participating in the Oktoberfest activities and he came in hung over
to work, I could trust he would always show up.
Ugh, those days killed me, because 1) I knew I would have double the
work load and mostly 2) all I wanted to do was take care of him. I wanted to go
get him some broth and watered down orange juice, the best hang over cure ever and
get a cold wet washcloth to put over his head and let him sleep. However, that
would show that I obviously had a crush on Wyatt and I could not for the life
of me ever let him know that. So the
best I could do is just tell him to go upstairs and lie down until it got too
busy for me, which he did. But even those days when he wasn’t “feeling” his
best I remember him walking outside to where this one guy was so drunk he
dropped his phone, like five times and finally it broke and only Wyatt could
fix it and put it back together for him. We all watched him from the window
befriend this guy who wouldn’t remember him tomorrow. I even think the guy
offered Wyatt a job in the city to get him the hell out of dodge. I love sweet nothing promises of a drunk. And
when I say love, I mean, stop burping your wine burps in my face. It warmed my heart, but also scared me. I couldn’t lose Wyatt; I couldn’t stand the
thought of him leaving for a real job in the city. I had to stop my crazy feelings and I was
starting to be unable to stand being around Wyatt, with my infatuation running
ramped I could only walk into the other room to my amazing “off to college”
teenage employ, Lena, and the two of us girls would just whisper about how hot
Wyatt was. He was those once in a life time breezes you get when you take it
into your lungs, pure clean air and you feel full. He was satisfaction. I was clearly not moving
past this infatuation.
The thing that sucks about me is that unless you are looking
me straight in the eyes, yelling in my face, taking my hand to your mouth so I
can feel you speak your words, and then sign with your other hand in my open
hand, I will have no clue you like me or want to ask me out. I’m still that way
today. But at least I feel like I am
getting more forward with going for the guy instead of waiting on an island for
a ship to come by…Though I am still single…
I digress. I tried to
ignore it and continue on with work.
Though, it was hard, because not too long after the indirect invitation out
to the local bars a pack of “bros” came in to do a tasting. Wyatt catches the leader’s eyes and hangs his
head in frustration, or maybe shame, I’m not sure. They are all, indeed, “friends”. Wyatt’s high school friends who he was, no
doubt, with that Saturday night that I was supposed to show up to the bars. The
leader, let us call him Brody, walks up to the counter right in front of me and
begins to turn on his charm. Now, I
remember Brody from high school, but I don’t remember him being 8 feet
tall. I remember him being one of those
little guys, adorable and witty, but not tall.
I had forgotten that he was one of those two guys in school who were
given steroids or hormones or something in their teens to make them
taller. So of course he had an ego that
he developed because he was now tall and good looking and therefore deserved
all the attention from women that he was denied in his youth. Brody asks to
sample wine and even though we all went to school together and he is one of
Wyatt’s fellow bro’s, I naturally insist that he still pays the $10 tasting
fee. All the guys “hoot” or “holler” in
some sort of way, but to show his manliness he pays up. I give him the spiel about the wines and the
vineyards and he acts like he is interested with his egotistical charm and asks
pretentious sounding questions about the wine, while the other guys poke fun at
him, or Wyatt, or at each other. Brody
struggles to drink the dry California wine (fine wine isn’t exactly a bro’s
forte), thanks me for the tasting, and to show that he isn’t cheap, even puts a
tip in the tip jar. They all then,
including Wyatt ignore me for the remainder of the time they were there. They
just joke with each other while I work to give other customers samples. I felt mocked, I felt made fun of, and I felt
disrespected. This was my job and a
passion of mine which was clearly a joke to these guys. I was just the prop to instigate inside
jokes. I gave their friend a job when he needed it, I didn’t see any of them
helping him out. I shook it off, tried
to forget it and told myself not to take something that was obviously directed
at Wyatt too personal. Though, I know
now that I should have taken more note of it when I did, for there was someone
in that group that later on would make me a pariah among that group, but that’s
a different story. Ah, romance.
As quickly as Oktoberfest started, it was over and I
couldn’t be more grateful to see November show up. Our town was abandoned and left in a horrible
state of used port-o-potties, wine bottles and under garments left behind by
our classy patrons. I was also able to cut my staff down to a skeleton crew
which made me happy, less people to complain about things I had no control
over. Sure there were some who wanted to
stay on, but in the end I was the one who had the final say on who stayed. I first looked at those who needed this job,
being it was their only source of income and only one person fell into that
category, Wyatt. Sweet logic and good will was on my side that day.
Life was slowing down with the change of the season, which
gave Wyatt and myself more time to really talk about important things, like
college drinking parties, new over-priced plotless 3D movies, and main stream
generic music of the day. Yes, it was quiet the typical magic conversations
that kept me coming back for more. That and mostly I never heard a word he was
saying. I often found myself wanting to say, “I’m sorry can you repeat that, I
got lost in your eyes.” I felt like that Imogene Heap song, Say good night
and go, except I was not following him home…Seriously, that song is creepy if
you actually listen to the lyrics. She’s a messed up stalker watching the guy
through his window and just because it has a catchy tune we all ignore her
“boundary” issues.
Ok, so I admit it, I was still just crushing on him hard because
of his looks, but as time went on we created a bond, something that was
unsaid. We both were not where we wanted
to be in life. We both had dreams and
hopes and we both got boomeranged back home to try to start again. We were both humbled in that similarity. Which
I think it made us able to laugh at ourselves more and be more playful, but
sadly not in a flirty way. But along the
lines of he would see a group of people coming around the corner and
immediately bolt while saying, “Not it!”
All I could ever reply was, “Damn your height Wyatt!” Though as much as
I was starting to feel comfortable around him I could never buck up the courage
to ask him to walk me over to the main building to drop off the money from the
register in the evening. I never felt safe walking over with that much money,
but I felt like I would be a burden to him since he wanted to get out with his
buddies to hang out at the bars. So many
incidents could have been avoided if Wyatt would have walked me over…I love
being cryptic in my writing…adds human curiosity, “What incidents?!?!?!” The
world may never know, but my lawyer does.
Autumn was the time of year that did nothing but aid to the
idea of romance. The smell of wood
fires, changing of the leaves and the insatiable desire to bundle up…except I
didn’t have anyone to bundle up with.
And then one afternoon, while Wyatt and I were working, his mom Beverly
stopped in with nothing but smiles and happiness floating around her. I naturally call Wyatt to the front to inform
him his mom was there. I tried not to
impose on their conversation, but eventually I was brought in and then the best
thing happened, Beverly asked if I wanted to come over for dinner. I don’t think I could have been any happier
that she asked. I held my breath, smiled
and looked over to Wyatt not to see him smiling back, but with this look of
sheer dread and horror on his face. “Oh no.
He’s embarrassed.” I thought to
myself. “What should I say? What should
I do? How can I make him not feel put on the spot?” I naturally made up some stupid excuse of why
I couldn’t go that night. For the rest
of the day after Beverly left I was hoping and praying that Wyatt would bring
it up again, that he would ask me if I wanted to go to his parent’s house for
dinner. I was partly curious how her
cooking was and mostly I wanted…I don’t want to say what I wanted, but I wanted
him to want me. I wanted him. The day
passed and closing time came and he said good night and he went home. Once again I was left alone to walk the money
over by myself wishing I was with Wyatt.
I was so angry at myself. I should have said yes, I should
have gone over. I would have made at
least myself and Beverly happy, screw Wyatt at this point. I was even starting to get angry with
him. I wanted to scream to please ask me
out, please talk to me, something. I got
the courage one day to finally ask him an off the wall question. “So, Wyatt. I
am so bad with guys…What’s one way to let a guy know that you’re interested?” I
hold my breath. Without looking at me he answers, “Well it’s definitely not
calling them names like sport or kiddo.” I shut down and I walk into the other
room and go talk to Lena and whisper, “I think I just really pissed off
Wyatt.” We whispered to each other for a
few minutes, discussing the male mind, both agreeing that I should leave him
alone. After that I honestly felt that was a hard core sign this guy was
getting tired of me and my antics. I
felt called out there and that he must have known that I was head over heels
into him. I didn’t talk to him for the
rest of the day and I never called him another name but Wyatt ever again.
I backed off, A LOT.
The holidays were approaching and I had to think of all the festivals we
were going to do as well as Christmas parties. I buried myself with work…I
didn’t need to, I think I even made work up, but it made me think I was doing
something worth my job and it kept my mind off of Wyatt. Then the winery Christmas party came around
and the two wineries as well as the vineyard workers and Bed and Breakfast crew
that were associated with the winery all came so it was a huge gathering, which
made it easy not to sit next to Wyatt.
But I didn’t want to be a shitty boss, or passive aggressive. So for Christmas presents for many workers I
made chocolate wine truffles. Again, I
couldn’t let him know that I liked him, so while I was passing them out I
thought the best way to hide my feelings were to chuck the truffles at him from
across the room. I am a master of
disguising my feelings. That’s totally
normal. I could go back to enjoying my holiday.
That was short lived.
The next weekend it was our Kristkindle Markt. It’s an old German
Christmas tradition of having vendors, crafts, artist, German still treats/food
and sell them. I felt like I needed a change in scenery so I was able to get
out of the wine tasting room and go down the street to the Festhalle, a giant
hall for all sorts of things, weddings, festivals, car shows, and parties,
whatever. It was huge and for that weekend I would be selling hot cider wine
and secretly be in charge of the music. I loved this kind of stuff, so I was
happy to get away and just enjoy these cavity giving sweet traditional
Christmas activities. Like I said
everything was fine until someone I worked with introduced me to their son…dun
dun dun!!!!!!
This guy was the poster child for tool. I can’t even go into detail about how
horrible he was…mostly because that’s going in a blog about my worst date
EVER. But I was cordial and was courteous
to my fellow employee’s son. On a Sunday evening I agree to drinks with this
fellow. After a few drinks, him showing off
how many credit cards he had and me actually telling the waitress that even if
he orders more drinks for me, let him pay for them but don’t put any alcohol in
it. I was so ready to leave that I was just going to get up and walk blocks to
my car in the snow…Mr. Tool insisted to drive me to my car. I just wanted to go home. With the doors locked one thing led to
another and I was somehow able to kick him in his chest, bolted to my car and
speed home, not even looking back. I was in my house, doors locked and I was
safe. I could go to work tomorrow and
just ignore him for the rest of my life.
Monday morning came around and Wyatt was working with me
that day, I was still shook up, but with him there I felt safe. It was going to be a slow winter’s day of
doing nothing until the early afternoon when I look up to the window and who
should I see walking from his car with a bouquet of flowers? Mr. Tool!
I panic and yell out, “OH SHIT!”
I run into the other room and begin begging Wyatt, for the love of God,
to tell this guy that I was not there. I
was almost on my knees trying to explain to him why he needed to lie for me. He reluctantly agreed. I ran up the stairs and hold my breath.
I hear the door open and Mr. Tool ask Wyatt where I
was.
“She’s not here today.” Wyatt said.
“Oh really” Mr. Tool responded with a ratty tone in his
voice. “Then why is her car outside?”
“Uh…Well she stopped by this morning then car pooled with
someone else to a store in the next town.”
Mr. Tool totally didn’t believe him and I began to hear his
footsteps on the steps, creaking on the old wood. I was so stressed; I was clutching my anus
like never before.
“You can’t go up there.
It’s under construction and it’s not safe.” Wyatt blurted out.
I was taken aback.
Wyatt was even coming up with more lies for me and a good lie, like that
was totally believable. Good ole Wyatt,
I could always count on him. He was keeping me safe.
“Ok. Well, you let
her know that I stopped by.” Mr. Tool
said as he headed out the door.
“Will do.”
I hear the door close, Mr. Tool dump the flowers in the
outside trash can, and his feet crunch on the snow as he heads to his car. I run to the window, but make sure he can’t
see me watching from the upstairs. I see
him get in his truck and think that it’s only a matter of time before he
leaves… I stand there and watch….and I watch some more. Why isn’t he leaving? I wait for about 20 minutes and then yell
down to Wyatt.
“Why isn’t he leaving?”
“I don’t know, but he had a pretty big flower arrangement
for you. It looked pretty expensive and he just threw it away.” Wyatt
responded.
I head down stairs and creep almost on my hands and knees to
the window by the desk where Wyatt was sitting. I look out and Mr. Tool is
still there. Both Wyatt and myself wait,
and wait and wait. Soon an hour has gone
by and he was still sitting in his truck.
I’m starting to freak out, I only have a few hours left before work ends
and I’m getting scared that he is planning on waiting me out. I can’t sit in the wine room in the dark, I
can’t sleep there overnight. What the
hell was I going to do? Luckily Wyatt
had his laptop and decided to google, “how to get away from a stalker.”
“Well, it says here that the first step is being honest with
the guy. You need to tell him the truth and usually that dissipates the
stalking.” He reads to me.
“Oh, hell no, I am not going to tell that guy the truth. I’m
pretty committed to this lie right now and so are you. I’ve already invested in it.” I say back to
him as I sit on the cold stone floor in front of the desk. “This guy is nuts
Wyatt. I mean he is full on crazy.”
“You’re not looking to sane yourself there crawling around
on the floor, boss.”
He’d had gotten into
the habit of calling me boss. Ugh, I
would swoon like no other when he called me that. Totally gave me a power trip. Got off on that shit.
I digress. Part of me
wanted to yell at Wyatt. If he would have only asked me out proper, months ago
I would not be in this situation. So, it
was partly his fault in the mind of this insane person.
Short on options, I call my mom and my sister. They will
surly have a plan. I mean my mom is an
adult, I know that I am an adult, but she is an adultier adult, she would have
to have a plan. They show up, I explain what happened. They both nod and then say that they don’t
have any plans. FUCK! I only have any
hour to go before work is over and Mr. Tool totally saw my mom and twin sister
walk into the winery. He has to know
something is up.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I call my boss’s 18 year old son to come and
help me. He shows up. Surprisingly, I know a lot of people who don’t
have shit to do on a Monday. I explain it to him; he nods and says that he doesn’t
have a plan either. OH MY GOD! What am I
going to do?????? I look back at Wyatt and ask what else that web site says
about getting out of a stalker situation.
“What? Oh, I’ve moved on from that site. Now I’m reading how
to get yourself out of a bar fight.”
“Really?” Asked my boss’s son as he sits next to Wyatt. “Is
there a way to get out of a bar fight?”
“How about you don’t start shit when you’re drinking? That’s a way to avoid a fight.” My mom
responds.
“Sometimes the fight comes to you mom, you just can’t help
the gravity of aggression.” My sister
chimes in.
What the fuck was happening?!?!?! I brought all these people together to help
me with my great escape and now they are all hoovering around a laptop and totally
not focusing on me at all. What does a
girl gotta do around here to save herself from a crazy stalker man???? I was on my own and I will say that the plan
I came up with may have not been Wellington at Waterloo, but damn it, it was a
plan.
I will now list off my plan in steps.
Step 1) I first passed off my car keys to my sister, who
would drive my car as a decoy in the wrong direction from my house. I gave my
set of work keys to Wyatt, trusting him to lock up after I was gone. When I asked him if he was going to be able
to lock up ok without me he naturally said, “Sure thing boss.” I think he had
to have known that drove me crazy.
Step 2) I had to find an alternate rout of escape. There was only the front door and small
window on the second floor that I was going to have to go through. My boss’s
son busted out the window because it was frozen shut. And hoisted me out.
Step 3) My boss’s son then went to his car and drove around
the side, while I shimmied my way down the railing. Mind you it was December in
Missouri so OF COURSE there was snow and ice. At this point I was thinking that
I should have just been honest with this guy, instead of doing something that
sounds like it’s out of a Muppet movie.
Step 4) I would then get in said son’s back seat, hide under
a blanket and he would then drive me across the river to the grocery store,
where my mom would pick me up and then take me home.
Step 5) Mom, sister and myself all rendezvous at the house
safe and sound, Wyatt locks up, boss’s son goes home enjoys the rest of his
college vacation and we never speak of this again.
Sounds legit right? Should work. Except that my boss’s son’s car back fires
and he peels out on the ice, which startles Mr. Tool. He doesn’t take the bait of following my
sister, but, instead, follows us through town and over the river. Wyatt is texting me to say, “Hey, do you know
he is following you?” Thank you, MATLOCK! We pull into the grocery store and we
watch Mr. Tool drive past and down a different road. We wait.
I try to remember if that is the way to his parent’s house, but I can’t
honestly say. We wait and then my mom
and sister pull in. I wave to my sis to
go on home. I thank my driver of the day
and tell him I will see him on Thursday to help bottle. I get into my mom’s car and all she says is,
“Well, that was fun.” I feel ashamed, foolish, and thrilled all at the same
time. I love the holidays.
When I get home I text Wyatt and thank him and try to say
that this was the first for me and I don’t usually have days like this. He says no problem and that everything is
locked up and fine there. I am
relieved. I could always depend on
Wyatt. Even when it was a very stupid, ridicules situation that ALLLLLLL could
have been avoided if I would have just said no to going and getting drinks
Sunday night. But it was over and I never saw Mr. Tool again and I am glad of
it.
Christmas and New Year’s passes, winter fully sets in and
everyone is back to work. However, in a
small tourist town, January and February are the slowest months of the year. It becomes a frozen ghost town. However, this,
ever so lovely, aids to the absolute need to snuggling up with someone special.
Its peaceful now, no stress of the holidays and there was the stillness of snow
that hung in the air with the wood stove smoke in the early morning. They were
small sweet moments. I remember asking
Wyatt to simply help me take the Christmas tree down and put it away. I have
never seen him light up before to help.
If I knew that asking a guy to help me with something would make him light
up I would have been asking men all my life to do stuff for me. Instead of this horrible nagging feeling in
my head that I am a burden to ask. Wyatt
perked up and it was heaven to see him smile.
Terribly enough those little moments were short lived, for
one of my bosses came to me not too long after the holidays instructing me to
limit the staff down to just me. They
were moving the California wines into the main building with the other winery
for the winter so they could do renovations over in the old building. This was the worst thing that could have
happened. Right when I was really falling
into this comfort with Wyatt, I had to end it.
That and I knew that he needed this job and I didn’t want to be that
person that I always dreaded when you work in a tourist town, the person who
lays you off for a season and you have to struggle once more. Then I had that
selfish thought that Wyatt would get another job and I wouldn’t see him
again.
Then it came to me, we have a Chocolate wine trail in
February on Valentine’s Day, where all the wineries in the town would host a
weekend of paring one of their wines with a homemade special chocolate dish.
Two thousand people have purchased tickets for this wine trail and I would have
to need Wyatt for that, and, of course, the rest of my staff. I was able to sway my boss to have him help
me. That winter’s day was not to be our
last.
I couldn’t wait for Valentine’s Day that year, and I am
someone who HATES it with a passion.
Like, want to crawl in a hole and die, hate it. I had never had a Valentine date ever in my
life so needless to say I was a little bit bitter. This year was different. I was going to spend the whole weekend with
Wyatt in an old wine cave, with candles, a fancy expensive merlot, romantic
music and two thousand white chocolate covered cherries… UGH…THE CHERRIES!!! That
is a horrible story in itself.
I honestly thought it was going to be a wonderful fun time
prepping the cherries a few days earlier.
I had one of the ladies from the sister winery help me and she was a fun
girl. On the outside you wouldn’t think
she would be a hoot, she was very proper and didn’t curse, very religious and tough
with her kids. But she had a GREAT
personality, sense of humor and would say the most amazing things when she was
drinking. I loved her. She was trying to
get a bunch of us ladies to rent a villa in Italy together and spend a month
there. Should have done that. Anyway, we both thought it was going to be a
great weekend in a kitchen just gabbing away and making memories like the
movies….NO, it was not like the movie For Water like Chocolate, it wasn’t like
the movie Death by Chocolate, or like the movie…Chocolate. It wasn’t even close to the I love Lucy
sketch where they are making those truffles.
No, this was hell because I am an idiot and didn’t have any clue that
white chocolate doesn’t melt like normal chocolate because it’s not chocolate, it’s
actually butter. Or how, in the name of God, do you prep something for two
thousand people??? So half of it was burned
and ruined. We had to improvise and get
regular chocolate and almond bars to substitute. But by the end of two days we had lost count of
how many we made and hopefully got close to two thousand, ruined good shoes and
clothes, because ALL of the movies say you have to look classy and adorable
when you make chocolate shit. We were
angry, cursing and fed the fuck up with chocolate and I can say that I fucking
hated that sweet devil dish for a VERY long time.
I remember walking in on that Saturday morning saying to
everyone, “After this I never want to see chocolate ever again.” Of course everyone thought that was adorable
and laughed, “Oh you.” They said. NO! For
years if I would have seen chocolate on the street walking past me I would of
shot it in the face with my vanilla gun! I was over it….But then Wyatt was
there that Valentine’s morning and that melted all my worries and I was going
to have an amazing weekend. Which I
did. I had planned it perfectly. My staff would do the regular wine tastings,
but then Wyatt and myself would be isolated in a small tasting cave. But it was logical and here is why; most of
the people who bought these tickets would be couples and Wyatt and myself could
pass off as an adorable couple. So you
see, it was an advantage to us getting tips and I was just trying to make sure
everyone was comfortable and felt great that was a couple. That happy “we’re
all in the same club” feeling. And for
those who bought tickets by themselves…well I don’t know what to say about and
I don’t really care.
Anyway, it was a very rainy muddy weekend and it was the
cold piercing winter rain. It was one of
those days where I was glad to be inside and I’m sure Wyatt was too. This also gave us a lot of down time to just
sit back in the cave and talk. We had
everything from ambiance, booze, chocolate, fruit and the most important thing,
time. The fact that we were getting paid
for this was also a plus side.
Everything should have added up to something between us, a touch, a
hint, a look, anything. I would day dream that we would be the last ones in the
building, locking up for the night, and as we were leaving, contemplating how
to get across the street to our cars in the freezing rain, he would open the
door; a gust of wind would blow in, causing me to sidle next to him for warmth.
A slight brush of skin, a rush of heat through our bodies, Wyatt would turn to
me and slowly kiss me. Perfection. Or
better yet, we would try to make a run for our cars together under one
umbrella. I would “slip” and he would
have to catch me and pull me up. After
that he would HAVE to kiss me, right? I mean at that point it is just common
curtesy. And what a great image that
would have been? Kissing in the rain on
Valentine’s Day.
However, the first work day came and passed and nothing
happened. Ok, bounce back; I still had
Sunday to go. I found something that was
a little bit sexier to wear to work that day, but still trying to give the idea
that I was totally not into him… I’m starting to see now that I gave him a lot
of mixed signals. Sunday had the same make up as Saturday, we were even more
relaxed than the first day and everything went smoothly, without any bumps, or
problems or anything happening. We had
even better conversations and jokes, which even lead to me jumping in like I was
flying to a terrible early 90’s romantic song.
Ugh, he laughed and that was amazing.
Sadly…NOTHING HAPPENED! Everything
ended the same way as Saturday, he said good night and left. Only at the end of Sunday I was left with 200
extra chocolate covered cherries. Since
it rained so hard a lot of people didn’t show up for the wine trail…I might of
hated chocolate at the point but at least I could eat my feelings away… Going
to say it, best Valentine’s Day EVER!
I didn’t see much of Wyatt after that day. He wasn’t contacting me either, so I assumed
he found another job. I honestly tried
not to think about him anymore. I wanted
to shake it off and look at it logically; we weren’t even friends, just
co-workers. We didn’t even remember each other from high school. I also had to
put in perspective that at the time most of pop culture was telling every girl
that if a guy isn’t calling you every day, showering you with gifts, forsaking
his family and carving your name into his arm, then “He is just not that into
you.” So I had to let it go, I had to focus on other things. And I did for months and I was even going
days without thinking about him. Then he
called me out of the blue asking if I could put a case of wine together for him
for a family event that he was having that Sunday. It was a simple call, but it was one that
made me happy.
I get his case ready for him to pick it up on the Saturday
before and like normal I was distracted by some other sort of drama at the time
when Wyatt walked in. All the ladies eyes were on him, most of them stopping in
mid-sentence. He was wearing jeans, with
a white wife beater, with a farmer tan. He looked like a golden God from
Olympus, his tan made his blue eyes pop.
Everything about him was sweaty and damn sexy, well, besides his white shoulders. He had no doubt been working out in the yard
all day. James Bond couldn’t have made a
farmer’s tan look sexy like Wyatt did. I
lost my head and I couldn’t talk when he asked, “Hey boss, where my box?” Oh my
God, I was going to die right there or make a very sick joke and then hide in a
hole for the rest of my life. I stumble over every other wine case to get to
his and I really don’t remember if I made him pay or if I told him that I will
settle it up with him later. I couldn’t
function to ring him up at all, especially with the employee discount; I
absolutely couldn’t do any sort of math. We chatted a bit and I found out where
he was going that evening. He said his
good byes and left. All the women
swooned and sounded like chickens clucking when he walked out the door. Then we all laughed at ourselves making all
over him. That’s right bitches. I bring all
the fine young men to the house! Verbatim
After we all calmed down I thought to myself, “Okay stupid.
You better take this chance to go and hang out with him.”
So I did, I went to the only Mexican restaurant in town
where he would be. There he was sitting
right in the middle of the main dining room.
I sat the bar and chatted with a few people I knew. Wyatt and I made eye contact and waved. I stayed in the bar and he stayed at his
table with his friends. Neither of us moved for the whole time we were both
there. Then I felt a pat on my back and
it was his friend Brody, with Wyatt and their group of friends behind
them. They were LEAVING!
“Good to see you out.”
Brody said or something like that.
“See you around boss.”
Wyatt said as he walked through the door.
Fuck you! That’s it! I’m done. I’m not putting myself out
there anymore. I was clearly a joke to
these guys and to Wyatt. I felt so
stupid for even showing up and trying. I
went home and swore I wasn’t going to try that ever again. Oh how I lie to myself more than anyone else.
A month went by and my tasting room was finally finished and
ready to open for Memorial Day weekend.
I had to jump start and higher all my old staff back. It was going to be a crazy weekend. I really had a hard time debating if I wanted
to ask Wyatt back. I needed him. I called and he gave me such a run around
because he was participating in a “washer” tournament that afternoon. He could only work half a day and really
would like to wear just regular clothes to work so he wouldn’t have to go home
and change. Where the fuck was this shit coming from? He used to be so
agreeable and nice. Whatever, I needed him to work so I told him it was fine.
I was concerned for the day and what sort of attitude he was
going to have, but he showed up and it was like nothing had changed and
everything was back to normal the way it was almost a year ago. I hate to say but when he left in early
afternoon I was, once again, sad to see him go. I thought about him that whole afternoon and
at closing time I had a thought while counting out tips. I could let him pick them up tomorrow
morning, or I could go to where they were holding this "tournament.” What
the hell! He could use a few extra bucks to buy himself a beer or two and I
could use a margarita after that long day.
I show up and he is in the back “game room”, which was
honestly probably an illegal add on with a second bar and a few pool tables,
darts and these said “washers”. The drinks were stronger than in the front room. I show up and it is a sausage-fest back
there. Not a woman in sight, and the
ones that were there had that aura of the phrase, “ridden hard and put away
wet.” When I say chapped leather I don’t mean their biker apparel. Wyatt was naturally on the other side of the
room. Crossing was like a gauntlet of
looks. I wait for him to finish his
round, if you couldn’t tell “washer”, or as they say it in the Midwest
“warshers”, is a very intense strategic game… said no one ever. Anyway, once he finish’s I give him his
tips. He waves it around for the room to
see, there are a hoots and I roll my eyes.
After that he went his own way and I found an old friend from high
school, I like to call him guardian, because when we went bowling and I had to
drive home, which was a long ways away, he said that he gave his guardian angel
to me so I made it home safe. That was so comforting and endearing. I loved it.
He was also a behemoth of muscles with a soft voice. They guy didn’t have to prove anything. He
could crush your skull in his hands if he wanted too. He was half Black Foot Native American and
did his own tribal tattoos in his garage; needless to say this guy was a legit bad
ass, with a heart of gold, who kicked my ass at bowling.
I don’t believe I paid for any drinks that night, which was
the very first time in my life that I didn’t have to go out on a date to have a
free drink. That’s a big deal for
me…I’ve never had free drinks in my life, so this was a lovely surprise. I
talked to a few people for the evening and have a reasonably wonderful
time. Hours wear on and there is only
one table left, everyone who is local and went to high school together, all
dudes and myself and one middle aged biker couple. She was the only other woman
in the bar and said something to me that made my alarms go off.
“I notice you are wearing a moonstone.” This conversation went on to an even more
awkward action of her taking off her moonstone elven princess necklace and
showing it to me. She then began to start to talk to me about the energy and
what not; I saw an opportunity to talk about price, anything to stay away from
any occult talk. In my head I was
screaming for one of the guys to save me…no one came to my aid.
Everyone was leaving.
Thank God. This was my out from
talking to these strangers. I could go
home without being rude. Side note, I
HATE being rude and try to make sure I leave everyone with a good impression of
me. I live in LIES! Anyway, I see an out, which couldn’t come any
sooner because this biker couple was getting upset that I wanted to end the
“party” so early. My only thought was,
“Oh God, you sick people are looking for a threesome aren’t you?” I make for my car. I wasn’t even going to bother with good
byes. I was saving my LIFE at this
point.
All of the boys cram themselves into one car as I go alone
to mine. I start my car and don’t even
notice until it’s too late. I hear my
passenger car door open and this GUY gets in.
I saw him earlier that evening.
He was a guy who walked into the back game room and everyone shouted out
his name, like norm from the show Cheers…that’s a tell sign someone is an
alcoholic. I hadn’t spoken a word to this guy and I didn’t even know who he was
and he has the balls to just get into my car? I should have maced him right
then and there, but I didn’t. I was more
worried about my car smelling like shoes at that point, but if I would have it
would have saved me from four years of heart ache.
For the guy who got into my car was who I thought was the
love of my life. I thought he was the “ONE”
in my life. I honestly believed that he
was the one I was going to marry. He was
the Odysseus to my Penelope. A few
happenstance meetings and him saying all the right words I was undeniably his.
A few days with my Odysseus and I completely forgot about Wyatt. I was so
wrapped up in the love affair with Odysseus that for two months I couldn’t see
anything else, he and I were inseparable. I forgot about my day dreams about
Wyatt and I became blind to him even being at work. He became to me what I thought I was to him,
just another employee.
At the end of the summer my Odysseus had gone to boot camp
for the Marines in San Diego and I was moving to Los Angeles to be closer to
him and live with my twin sister. I had
heard that Wyatt was going back to school to get his masters through many of my
dates with Odysseus, for he and Wyatt were childhood friends, same age, same
school, same baseball gurus, and I just don’t mean they liked baseball. Those boys could have played in the minor
leagues when they were in college. That’s their story why they didn’t take the
deals, not mine. Anyway, I digress. I
was happy for Wyatt because I knew he was meant for much more than what he was
doing. He was smart and deep and he
deserved to have a better career that made him happy. Since I was happily in
love with my Odysseus I wanted everyone who I cared about to be happy…Gross,
puppy love.
Months go by, I move, my Odysseus graduates Marine boot
camp, Wyatt goes back to school and disappears off my radar. Odysseus and my relationship is starting to
see trouble only five months in with military and distance being a huge
issue. I am now in L.A. and he has been
transferred to Florida then to North Carolina for avionics school. I’m struggling
to make it in L.A. and keep a little buffer of money; Odysseus doesn’t
understand why I am stressed because he has only known me when I was flushed
with cash. California compared to
Missouri, Los Angeles compared to Hermann are two very different places with
cost of living. We were struggling from
the start to stay in love and be apart. Our relationship was detreating
rapidly.
The holidays came around. We are both able to go home and
have about two weeks with our families. We were lucky, but it was hard
balancing the fact that we both were away from our home and had family and
loved ones we wanted to see and share our significant other with those said
loved ones. To say it nicely, it was
hard finding a balance. Christmas day
found me with his family, while mine was fighting…a little bit glad I wasn’t
there, that and we tried to celebrate on Christmas Eve. We had spent two days with both our families
and by the closing of Christmas Day I was exhausted. However, instead of going
home and sleeping in my bed and hoping that everyone was calmed down at my
house, I had to go to yet another gathering.
All of my boyfriend’s high school friends would get wasted at one of their
friends’ houses with their parents…what was this, the 90’s? I was too old for
this crap and too tired and was over my boyfriend’s drinking within a few short
months of dating. However I had to go to show support for my marine, who spent
the whole evening flirting with girls who wouldn’t have anything to do with him
in high school showing off his new status.
I had to put up with it, even if it bothered me; I was told I was the bad
guy if I let it get to me. I was the one
with low self-esteem if I couldn’t watch my boyfriend get wasted and flirt with
other women who wouldn’t give me the time of day. I had a head ache, I had acid reflux from
being in a place I didn’t want to be and I was sick to my stomach from all the
Christmas food and wine. I just wanted
to go home.
I knew I was in a bad state of mind when I saw Brody and
thought that this was a person I could talk to.
Of course he was plastered but I thought I could at least joke with
him. He was slurring something inaudible
and then laughing at it. Then he said
the weirdest and the most shocking thing ever.
“Man, Wyatt had the biggest crush on your sister.”
“What? That doesn’t
make any sense.” I answered. “Wyatt’s never met my sister. That doesn’t make
any sense.”
Brody’s face went white; his drunk smile went to a sober
frown. His blood shot eyes went wide and
an “Oh Shit.” Look came over his face.
At that moment we both realized what he meant. My eyes widen and I start
to question him like crazy.
“Wait, Brody. What do
you mean that Wyatt had a crush on my sister?
You meant ME don’t you?”
He said NOTHING. All
he did was turn and walk away from me saying not saying a thing. He completely ignored me. Wyatt had a crush
on me this whole time and I never knew it.
I had no clue because of my own insecurity. I look over to where Wyatt was standing, next
to one of his cousins. Ever since
Odysseus and I started dating Wyatt couldn’t look me in the eyes anymore. I look
over at my boyfriend, falling over his drunken self. Not only could I hear deep bells ringing
inside of me, I felt their vibrations through my whole body. I wanted to barf right there. I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom.
Years went by and I never saw Wyatt except for a few times
and never without my boyfriend at my side.
And then I heard that Wyatt was in a relationship with this one chick,
who I wasn’t fond of because she was notorious for flirting with guys in relationships,
my Odysseus included. But I was happy that Wyatt found someone. I was still madly in love with my marine and
was fighting to death to keep him no matter what. My thoughts were always on my
boyfriend and us and the future. Though
every once and a while I had a fleeting thought of Wyatt and our days in the
winery. I had always hopped he was doing well and what news I got of him I was
happy to have. He was moving up in the
world and I knew that he deserved it.
A few years ago was the last time that I saw Wyatt. IT was at a New Year’s Eve party and I was
going to a group dinner with a bunch of my Odysseus’ friends. I sat on the end with couples and I saw Wyatt
and a few single guys at the other end of the table. He was not looking festive or jolly at all and
he was alone. Though who was I to judge
at that time? It was around the holidays
and that was the usual time of year that my boyfriend and I would argue about
drinking, partying and marriage. The most consistent gift Odysseus ever gave me
was a break up every Christmas. I
believe that’s what I got three years in a row. But we would always get back
together a few days later, “stronger” than ever.
After dinner we all went to a friend’s house for the party. It
was a big crowd and that’s when I found out that Wyatt’s girlfriend used him
for a rebound from her last relationship and then dumped him for a good friend
of his who looked a lot like him. Well,
all three of them were there that evening, and when Wyatt’s ex walked in with
his buddy, I saw Wyatt make a b line to the other side of the room. That party went from bland to awkward in
about one second. And I thought I was having a crappy holiday season. It hurt me
to watch him try to escape the feelings of being used and betrayed. Then the two of us make eye contact and I swear
it was the first time in years I had seen Wyatt smile. Both of our smiles kept getting bigger and
bigger as he came closer. The only one’s
smile who didn’t grow bigger was my boyfriend’s. How I wanted to huge Wyatt when he said
hello, but I knew I couldn’t with Odysseus there. Even though I stopped myself
the two of us had a great conversation
together and all my stress that I had been harboring dissipated and
Wyatt seemed happy for a little while which filled me with peace.
Mid night happens Odysseus and I share our New Year’s Kiss. It was sweet and short with a hint of
obligatory tradition hanging over it, but for a girl like me I take every
chance I get at those sorts of things.
Still waiting to check off getting kissed under the mistletoe on my romantic
cliché list. I look around after for Wyatt in the crowded room and I don’t seem
him…
In fact I don’t ever see him again. Every once and a while
in the next few years I would wonder what happened to him, you could only learn
so much from social media and he wasn’t the type to put much on there as it
was. I would send him an email on Facebook
asking how he was doing and how life was treating him. I never got a reply back from him. I would wish him a happy birthday or like a
picture, I would never get a happy birthday back or any sort of “like”. To say I took it personal is an
understatement. I was his childhood friend’s girl, I was his boss, and I thought
we were friends. He clearly hated me for some reason or thought he was better
than me. I stopped trying to contact
him.
Finally, in the last year of my relationship with the
marine, my boyfriend and I disintegrate from Odysseus and Penelope to Agamemnon
and Clytemnestra. If you know anything about Greek literature you will know
that is a 180 from good to the absolute worst, Cassandra and all! We go from practically being engaged to never
speaking to each other again. Our love
was exhausted and we couldn’t do it anymore with one another. We couldn’t do the distance, or the military. I was done with his drinking and partying and
he couldn’t deal with me being done. I
was devastated to say the least. I had
to get out of L.A.; all my memories of him were there. I moved home and regrouped. Detoxed from the situation. I kept my job,
but worked from home with a bit of a pay cut. But it gave me the time to think.
MONTHS of time to think and process and regain my life that I lost control of. That
consisted of moving on and cleaning things out.
That’s where all of these memories come to. One day recently I was cleaning out my car
and I found this picture that Wyatt drew 5 years ago. I stop and just stared at
it for the longest time. How could a
little piece of paper with a doodle on it bring me such peace? Like I said, we had a lot of down time and he
would draw what he could see in the small room at the winery.
I remember that when I was leaving to move to L.A. I had a
lot of personal items in the winery, like music, books, and chocolate that I had
hidden for emergencies. So while I was cleaning out all of my stuff I found
this in the note pad that we kept by the register for questions. I don’t know if
a sane person would have taken it, or kept it tucked away for so long, but I did. I guess I always wanted to have a little
piece of Wyatt with me. A little token of someone who made me happy. I could
almost cry for how much I missed him when I looked at that picture. It was a
bitter sweet, heavy feeling in my chest that made me sigh.
It made me think of him and again wonder where he was. Was he happy? Did he have an amazing job? Did
he graduate from grad school? Was he in a relationship? Was he in love? I almost contacted him on
another social media site, since after my break up I deleted my Facebook. I stopped myself. This isn’t a romantic
comedy, this is real life and if he didn’t want contact with me when I was his
buddies girlfriend, why would he want any contact when I was single? I was the
enemy now, not being able to make it work with my ex. I was the pariah.
But honestly my real reason was far more dramatic than
that. With us being the two that we were
to each other we can never damage each other.
We will never date, never kiss, never sleep together and more
importantly we will never hurt each other deeply like couples do. We will never fight and say things that we
regret. I will never hear him raise his
voice to me and he will never see me cry. We won’t become an angry couple that
tries to spit one another. We won’t ever fight over money or time. We won’t do
things that we can’t take back. Wyatt
was a dream, a memory and a fantasy to me and he will forever stay that way. In my mind his electric blue eyes were always being
as stunning as the first day he walked into the winery. We won’t see one
another grow old and become insecure about our looks We are safe from each other’s love. We are
safe from each other.
I will not seek him out.
Even though we have no signs of any sort of relationship,
there is a song that reminds me of him.
Bygone days from the film Porco Rosso. I love the idea of this song coming on while sitting in a fancy bar one day, looking rather dignified and sharp. Ordering myself a fine wine, like the wine
that Wyatt and I used to sell. Hear this song and remember how he was my prestige
bygone day. I remember the slow winter days at the winery, the crazy fast fall
days during Oktoberfest, those few summer afternoons we had and that New Year’s
Eve when I saw him for the last time. He will never be my lost love, just found memories. Then I will hear a voice say, “Is this
seat taken?” I look up with anticipation
and its Wyatt asking to sit with me.
But, that never happens. I look up and no one is there. Even in my fantasies I
get stood up, but in my fantasies the wine is always amazing.
He was just a day dream. Here's to Mr. Electric Blue Eyes and the best relationship I never had.
He was just a day dream. Here's to Mr. Electric Blue Eyes and the best relationship I never had.
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