Friday, September 11, 2009

Love; It's like a Hurricane

I saw FauxHawk yesterday. He was in CapitalCity to see his family and wanted to stop by for a visit. Of course I said yes, because I’m a goddamn masochist.

We hadn’t spent any time together in a little while, so I was nervous. I started texting people about an hour before he came over.

ThePeach: FauxHawk is coming over. I think for coffee. I’m scared.
BadInfluence: Throw your coffee in his face.
ThePeach: Actually, I was thinking I’d just look super hot and throw that in his face instead.
BadInfluence: Just as painful.

Hotness is the only weapon in my arsenal right now. So I did my best to work it, despite the fever and face full of snot. But in the end it didn’t matter, because as soon as FauxHawk walked through my door my illusions of superiority melted and I just wanted to hold hands and tell him about my day. Goddamnit, love.

We watched some tv and chatted. It just felt natural to lean back on him and have him put his arms around me. I could feel his heart beating on my back.

The thing is, it’s hard. The breakup thing is fucking hard. We’re not right for each other. I don’t want to be a Jewish Stepford Wife, slopping my 2pm martini on the carpet while I tell my kids that Daddy doesn’t know how to love Mommy, and that’s why Mommy drinks. But we love each other, and we did for five years and that doesn’t just go away after two months and an Irish bartender.

So when FauxHawk and I see each other, it seems natural to fall into old habits. Don’t worry, nothing happened beyond the cuddling. Although, really, that almost seems more destructive than a meaningless fuck.

Anyway, eventually I extracted myself from Satan’s bear trap and met some friends at the bar for a much, much needed drink. I immediately poured several gins down my throat and became slurry drunk thanks to the approximately 47 benalyn pills I had consumed already that day. Later, some of us went back to BadInfluence’s house to continue the par-tay. I was feeling a little empty, and that’s when GinBucket broke out the guitar and started singing the most amazing song I have ever heard.

GinBucket: Love, it’s like a hurricane: it happens in Florida, it gets into everything.
Love, it’s like a monster truck: it fills up whole stadiums, but it crushes smaller trucks
Love, it’s like a marmoset: it may be small and cute, but sometimes it eats its young
Love, it’s like a trailer park: ugly but functional, the rent is cheap enough
Love, it’s like a garbage man: it collects waste and filth, it smells like rotting flesh
Love, it’s like an interstate: it gets you from place to place, but it’s littered with dead raccoons
Love, it’s like a newborn child: seems interesting when it’s young, gets pedestrian after a while
Love, it’s like a hurricane: it happens in Florida, it destroys everything.

I sat there in awe, gin in hand, while GinBucket sang what is essentially my new theme song. I might have fallen in love with her a little bit at that moment. But remember that I'm predisposed to people who can sing and play guitar at the same time.

Anyway, I eventually stumbled home at 4am, took two more benalyn, fever-slept until noon, and then met MortalCombat at Starbucks. We took our coffees down to the canal and lay in the grass, watching a little girl in a white dress chase ducks. We discussed life and love.

Love really is like a hurricane. But thank god for friend love. It keeps me alive.

And drunk. Which is so key.



Claire Brownell said...

I thought for a second you'd found a video to that song and got super duper excited. Still fantastic though, one of the things that gives my life meaning is spreading that song to as many people as possible.

ZingleJingle said...

thanks for posting the lyrics for this song- i'm learning it on my uke, and couldn't remember the words, but given the events of the evening, find it essential to know off by heart. No pun intended.
Nice writing, BTW.

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