Coffee & Make Believe

Living life off of love, lies, and lattes.

Category: Drunken Conversations

Drunken Conversations Vol. VI

“Why do you keep letting me do this?”

It took me off guard because he released a little honesty with the question, and I wasn’t ready for honesty. So I answered his question with one of my own.

“Why do you keep doing it?”

Drunken Conversations Vol. V

It’s always in those moments when I lose myself, when I let go of the restraints I keep on my mouth, that I let slip a little too much. Just a few words, but more meaning in them than I meant to reveal. A flicker of vulnerability in the softness of my voice. A little too much honesty.

“I want you to stay.”

I lied there looking up at him, knowing I had said too much, but in that moment, not caring. I knew that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t. I knew that my words and whatever I felt about us or him, were irrelevant and always will be. I knew that it was never going to be me, and I knew that deeply, that was what I always intended.

But I didn’t know that he was going to respond just as softly, just as vulnerably. I didn’t know that he would sound so much like I had, and I wonder if he was also surprised by his own honesty.

“I know. I don’t want to go.
Believe me, I really want to stay.”

Drunken Conversations Vol. IV

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“I’m not trying to do anything!
I’m trying to be good.”

I can’t remember how I sounded when I said it, but in my memory, it was similar to that of a crying girl. I sounded young, but that was probably from the drunkenness. And so I should’ve seemed, lying there in the driver’s seat with a draught of sleepiness coming over me, as he sat crouched down beside me. He always felt the need to keep me company whenever I attempted to sober up in my car. But he did not risk entering my vehicle.

He had said something as we were joking with each other, insinuating that I was teasing him. I laughed, but then I was honest.

His voice was serious but almost sad as he responded. Honest. Real. And if there were any moments during the week that it took me to get over him, in which I might’ve felt like I had exaggerated my memories and he did not actually have any feelings for me, they were dissipated in that moment. Because it sounded so true coming out of his mouth.

“I know… Me, too.”

Drunken Conversations Vol. III

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“I’m sorry.”

He sounded so genuine, as if he was sincerely apologizing. Almost somber. I didn’t know what to make of it. His presence tonight was already taking me back to summer nights together one year ago.

“For what?”

I looked up, and glanced at his face. He was watching me, of course, like he used to. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol had something to do with it, but he did not seem overly flirty as I’ve previously seen him behave after one too many drinks.

“For not hanging out. There’s been…a lot going on.
I miss our pho dates.”

It seemed like a silly thing to apologize for, as he had only been back in town for a few days. It almost felt like a deeper apology, but for what, I wasn’t sure. It sounded deep-rooted. Was it for all of the things that happened so long ago? Would he even know to apologize for those things?

“Don’t worry about it.”

He seemed content with that, but still quiet. I didn’t say anything to give him hope, because I wasn’t sure if that was a door I’d ever reopen. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if this was a conversation he would remember tomorrow.

He leaned over as if to whisper something, and instead left a soft kiss on my shoulder.

Drunken Conversations Vol. II

He wanted me to go back on my word, on what I told him months ago the last time we had addressed it. He wanted to know if my reasoning from before was still the case.

“If I wasn’t in the situation I am now,
would this still have happened?”

I had to really think about it. I had thought about it before, in the broad scheme of things. But I’d never thought about it as this direct thing that we were doing. And I answered honestly, in the moment, what I felt was true.

But I never would’ve answered that honestly, if I knew then what I later assessed. I never would’ve said the words, had I known that there might be potential feelings aboard this ship. That what we were doing was starting to anchor down in him and take hold. I never would’ve told him,

“I think this would have been inevitable.”

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Drunken Conversations Vol. I

Nothing was said for a few seconds. We sat there comfortably, in silence, in darkness.

And out of nowhere, he said it.

I wish I could remember for the sake of the story if I was already looking at him, if I was leaning my head on his shoulder, if he was already looking at me quietly but complacently. Thoughtfully.

But I can’t remember, and I guess that’s what this new series of blog posts is all about.

His question took me off guard. I never expected him to address what we were doing, or initiate a conversation about it. I never expected to ever talk about it with him. Not really.

But he said it, and I looked at him, unable to really give him an answer, not because I was in shock (partially) that he brought it up, but because I really didn’t know what would happen.

“This is going to end badly, isn’t it?”