#nudoc

You met at an awards show in the United States in 2001.

He was there with his parents and sister. A cousin had been nominated for a production award that wasn't even going to be televised.

We were nominated too, for Clint Eastwood. We had gotten a call saying in advance that we weren't going to win, but you said you wanted to go, for the sake of publicity. So you went alone.

He said he was going to the bathroom, but he snuck out to watch the adults smoke. You were there. He bummed a cigarette off of you, and you got to talking. You know this already, but your act works perfectly on teenage boys. He thought you were "the coolest".

You met, and you didn't even tell me! Time has made my indignation irrelevant. But I still wanted you to know: I was upset about this when I found out. He thought I already knew.

I know a lot of things about him now. He's become simply another person to me. As for me, I've changed so much. I am no longer the little girl with a crush on him, one of many.

And yet I still tried.

He was still handsome to me, despite the hair issue. The light of the morning on his skin--

He has surprisingly beautiful eyes.

He treated me right. He did everything a decent man should. He had his moments, but overall he was pleasant and knew how to be romantic, even sweet.

He had taken his money and gone to university, even studying abroad in his mother's home country. That was when he started to get serious about playing the bass, by the way. He can speak Spanish just as well as English, and he's a surprisingly good cook. He brushes his teeth and cleans his sunglasses. He can control himself when he gets angry.

He was better than you. He IS better than you.

I could only think of him compared to you.

I started to miss you. Everything about you. Everything that makes you so despicable, and irresistible. You're like a stubborn infection, and you've spread into all of our bloodstreams. I couldn't believe myself. How could someone possibly miss how you smell?