luxemburger

Friday night I dreamed that you came to visit, and we had dinner with my mom and my sister. My sister was rude to you, and I was embarrassed in the way I used to inevitably get with either one of them in a social setting, but not as irritated as I would have thought I'd be if it involved you.

You mentioned a Nikki, and I immediately took her to be your girlfriend, but my sister told you she didn't have a fucking clue who you were talking about, and you blushed and looked like you'd suddenly realized how awkward it was for you to bring her up in front of my family, of all people. I clarified for you while you said nothing, and you shot me a grateful half-smile, but then looked away again, all of things that made this visit an unquestionably uncomfortable decision sinking in all at once.

Later you got drunk on wine, adorable and flushed the way I'd always thought you would be. We washed the dishes together and couldn't find much to say, but your hair was falling over the same side of your face that I was standing on, and you kept your eyes on the sink the entire time, on the glint of the soapy water as it slid between your fingers. Which is to say, not on me.

But the apples of your cheeks betrayed you, sparkled at me through loose strands of your hair, and I was happy. Despite yourself, I think you were happy too.

I didn't know where you were staying, but after you'd retreated for the night I received a long e-mail that basically said, "She's out of town for the weekend, and I can't stop myself from wondering what it would be like to make love to you." There was more to the letter, rambling about less personal things that still shook me when I read between the lines. In the dream I could hear you reading every word to me, and then the next thing I knew I was sitting on your bed, waiting for you to come in from another room.

You'd left a magazine in the cubby hole of your nightstand, something like Cosmo, folded open to an advice column in which someone had written a letter that said, "My ex-boyfriend and I never sealed the deal, and now I think I have the chance, but I don't know how to tell him that I'm still interested," and there was a low, warm thrum of amusement and affection in my stomach as I skimmed the page, imagined you stumbling across the letter and saving it, hiding it under your pillow at night and letting it give you hope for the two of us.

Maybe it was even what'd inspired you to come here, and after everything that'd always made us so special, the fact that in the end it seemed like something that common, that banal was what had finally made this happen, well, how could I not love you all the more for it?

When I woke up I thought, "How funny, to dream about you for the first time now, when there were so many times before when it would have made more sense."

( And then, almost a full hour later, I realized it hadn't been the first time I dreamed about you at all. )

I HAVE SPENT SO MUCH OF MY WEEKEND LISTENING TO THESE SONGS: Wretches by Hop Along.

I don't, I don't even know what to say about them, really, except that at parts they're way too loud for headphones and yet all I want to do is curl up and press my hands against my ears until they're all that I hear.

Omg, omg, omg, omg. Somebody else please download them and listen to "Second Name" and "Sally" and then come be tongue-tied and flailing with me so we can shudder and wave arms at each other while we discuss our favorite parts. I CAN'T PICK MINE, AND I NEED YOUR HELP.

ALTERNATIVELY (by which I mean, additionally): Top 5 songs that make you press your hands against your ears in the good way, go! It's been a few years since I asked that, omg.