Cute girl’s at the bar, sipping on a Tall Boy PBR. I’ve known her for about a year, don’t exactly know her name, but I know she dated a good friend of mine. To my credit, I’ve never been formally introduced to her, so I don’t feel bad about not knowing her name.
I never talked to my friend about the break-up, I just started seeing him at the bar with another girl. I actually know her too, but can’t remember her name. I’m doing good, staying awake here, know what I mean?
Anyway, I see his ex at the bar, and I automatically think of my friend. I haven’t seen him for awhile. Maybe in a month. This is significant, because I’m used to seeing him once a week at least. Must be busy with something.
Coincidentally, twenty minutes later, my friend walks into the bar. I see him at the door, chatting up the door girl. The door girl’s new, funky, tattoo on her neck.
He comes up to the bar, we say our hellos, then I say, I see your ex is here. He says a simple, probably. He seems unfazed by this. I guess, as he should. I’ve always felt like this guy is a man. Mature. Younger than me, but seems more adult.
That’s not hard to do.
She’s sitting at the bar with her friends, my buddy is about four stools away from her, to my right. My friend doesn’t really look in her direction at first, but I notice she causally, almost imperceptibly, looks over for a brief two seconds, then turns back to her friends. After awhile, my friend says his good-byes, goes to check out the band on stage.
I remember back in my early 20’s, going through a break-up, I listened to this Astrud Gilberto song over and over. You’ve probably heard her song The Girl From Ipanema. In this song I listened to, there’s a line she sings, at the end of the song, that goes,
Love is the saddest thing…when it goes away.
This is what I thought when I saw the vast ocean tide separating my friend from the girl.
If they stretched their arms out, they could almost touch.
But that’s something they could never do.