So here I am. Back in New York. Back to my old life. And I mean my OLD life. The one where I was single. Yea… you remember that, don’t you? I do. Clear as day.
Bonnaroo.
I’m in Manchester, Tennessee. Sitting on the side of some highway which number I can’t remember. 40? 76? Beats the hell out of me. There were a dozen of them. Anyway, we’re sitting on the side of the highway in the blazing sun with a few thousand other cars waiting on line to get in to the field and prepared to do so for at least four more hours. “Crack me open a beer?” I ask Bill who is barely awake in the back seat. A lot of the cars around us are unoccupied. It’s passengers are roaming in the grass, throwing footballs, shotgunning beers, and here I am… hippie at heart… picking wild flowers on the side of the highway and placing them behind my ear. We get back in the car to move it. A whopping 35 feet. That was worth the gas. At $4.Something a gallon. While still sitting in the car, I notice the two guys in the car in front of us.
“I like that one. The taller one with the light hair. He’s cute. It’s a doofy sort of way.”
“You think?” Asks Tiff (who’s driving).
“Yea. He’s alright.”
Not even two seconds later, taller guy and shorter guy are headed toward the car. I roll down my window, light up a camel non-filter and take a giant swig of Amstel Light.
We share a few minutes of small talk before it’s time to move the car again. This time, a whole 50 feet. That’s when Tiff looks over at me. “You know they only came over here because they didn’t see Bill in the back seat, right?”
“Oh yea. I know.” And we laugh.
We bullshit the whole five hours waiting on line to get into the place. We make an agreement to share a campsite, share beer, food, etc.
After spending the entire first day with Taller, Lighter haired guy and his buddy, TG (taller guy) and I decide we’re headed over to the staging area. Yea, there’s no bands we want to see the first night, but we want to check out the place too. We head back to the campsite an hour or so later and find we’re alone.
“Want to see my tent?”
Now, I’m not that easy a sale. I can promise you that. But I’m drunk. I’m single. And hadn’t gotten laid in I don’t even know how long. Alright, I do know how long. And it was too long.
So I slept with him.
Things would have been fine after that. I was totally content with just hanging all weekend and not even aknowledging the situation, but he got clingy. Sure he wanted to get laid again. Simple as that.
But we live states away.
And he’s still clingy.
So sorry I gave the kid my number.
