The other night I was hitting a few places in Portland. Having a reasonably good time despite not really getting to dance up-close with anybody.

I bought a drink for a nice girl from Freeport. She was tall and pretty, but she seemed uncomfortable. We had fun talking for a bit, but then she went to the restroom and didn’t come back to the conversation. She didn’t seem interested. I listened to some good 90’s music and moved on after a while.

I wandered for a while. I saw a friend and chatted for a while. Made my way to Pearl.

When I was just about there, I saw a cutie in front of another bar nearby. She was taking a short smoking break. She was the fun type — not the pouty type. We immediately started talking. By the time she finished her cigarette we had our arms around each other.

I asked her what she wanted to drink. She had a “Grateful Dead.” I had another Guinness.

We went to a corner and started talking real close. Our hands didn’t leave each other. She said I was a good person. That she could tell. (I believe I actually am a good person. I know everybody thinks they are. I really believe I am — and it’s not easy in the face of the corrosive environment I was raised in — Christianity).

She herself is a good person. She’s optimistic and open to new experiences. She told me that this was her last night in Portland. The very next morning she was moving to another city to take a position as a nurse. What?!? oh no! This is the best connection I’ve made in a while, and she’s moving away?


This was probably going to be the last time we would see each other.

I reminded her of this fact. She seemed just as upset about this as myself. She held me closer. “A Kiss,” I said. She closed her eyes.

We made out for a few minutes. It felt great. I heard her respond when I kissed her neck. Tonight was our only opening. We were going to remember tonight…

Then all of the sudden her friend appeared.

This figure of dire consternation introduced herself and flatly informed us that she wasn’t going anywhere with me. She had a flight in the morning. Early in the morning.

“I can drive her anywhere she needs to go,” I said.

“No. She’s going with us,” her friend said. “I’m looking out for her best interest. Clearly!”

There was nothing I could do or say. I felt like I was talking to someone’s mother; or maybe a school principal.

Her friend really was looking after her best interest. I didn’t know this, but the girl couldn’t hold her liquor. I don’t think that a “Grateful Dead” has that much alcohol, but the girl I had been kissing was now fall-to-the-floor drunk. Just 10 minutes before she had been cogent.

In her drunken state she called me from her phone so I would have her number. As she left with her friends I had to help her walk to the car. I hope she remembers me.

The next day when I called her number I got her friend instead. She was “between phones,” so she had called me from the freind’s phone. Her friend said she would pass my number to the girl. I hope she does. I know I’ll eventually travel to her new city.