Thanks for the Memories


Memory. It’s a pernicious thing.

For one thing, it’s selective. We summon up specific memories to reinforce our current moods - which is the reason for the classic “I love you, I hate you” 2am drunken booty call. We somehow forget that she was a certified loon, and only manage to remember that she was ready to try anything… at least once.

But for every time a recollection makes us smile, there’s that other one. The one we can’t seem to shake. The one that revolves around the dumbass thing we said when our subconscious became unguarded for just that small fraction of a second that it took to verbalize the dumbass thing.

And the worst part is that once the words are out there, they never go away. Those words, even when forgiven, hang suspended in memory for eternity.

It wasn’t planned. Really.

I place all of the blame on that previously mentioned, temporarily unguarded, subconscious.

What I meant to say was, “Please pass the salt.”

What came out was, “Get out of my life you miserable blood-sucking leach.”

Somehow I suspect she’ll remember this one.

Discuss Booty Calls in the forum.

Discuss When you can’t take it back in the forum.

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One Response to “Thanks for the Memories”

  1. One Hung Low says:

    I wonder how many times it’s the guy who gets the late night booty call?

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