Me: Can you pack stuff for a picnic and I’ll meet you in the park? It’s beautiful today.
The Gymgirl: Pier?
Me: Perfect. I was also thinking of getting us half a roast duck.
I had run down to Chinatown for a haircut and some food but the weather was so nice that we made last minute lunch plans.
We’d not been out in a few days because we both got sick with a stomach bug so it was nice getting out.
We’d also not been able to get to the gym, which we both wanted to do.
This fella named Archilochus once said that, We don’t rise to the level of our expectations, we fall to the level of our training.
In a way, at our gym, we’re both training for something that will hopefully never happen. But I thought about that quote for a different reason.
You see, if not for this blog, I’m not really sure how much I would have remembered about our meeting.
Don’t remember much from the last several years. My mother-in-law thinks it’s because I slept so little and sleep is when your memories are set.
This is probably a good thing. There are horrors I experienced with Alison that I don’t wanna remember. But there are things I wish I did remember. About Alison. About the boy. About the Gymgirl.
All I know is that, after Alison died, I could barely function. So I just did that which I trained myself to do – after all, you are what you constantly do and after years of womanizing,* that’s what I defaulted to.
Well, that and drink to excess.
And as the fog of all the alcohol, craziness, and misery slowly faded, the Gymgirl came into focus and what I thought initially as another disposable relationship became anything but.
My life and luck has been – admittedly – complete s__t. But she and the boy are welcome outliers to my otherwise execrable existence.
Me: I wanted to say thank you. For everything. For all the things you do around here. With me, with the kid.
Her: Of course. (laughing) It’s not a big deal. But what brought this on?
Me: (shrugging) No reason. Life. Just…thanks.
Her: You’re welcome, Logan.
*Alison hated when I used that word: Womanizing.
But I don’t know a more appropriate word. I don’t think what I did/do really falls squarely in the realm of dating, or pick-up, or what have you – for reasons that are my own. They’re different things to me.
And once I met Alison, I stopped so I never spent any time thinking of a different word.
And once again, I’ve stopped. So it remains the most appropriate word I have.