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Breaking Bricks (Buy Felicia)

March 10, 2015

Saturday morning I got a text from Lennon Glasses, asking me what I was doing.

“Laundry. Dishes. Walk. The usual,” I replied.

We had been missing each other with invitations and counter-invitations to hang out, watch a movie, catch an after-party.

He wanted to join me on my walk. My son had my car so I walked to his place.

“We can meander,” he said. “It’ll be an adventure.”

I used to say that to my kids. They hated it.

I was walking up St. Landry when I saw two guys pounding at a brick wall with a mallet. I was jealous. I wanted to break some bricks.

“Is that as much fun as it looks?” I asked when I got closer.

“Yeah, it is. You wanna try it?”

“I really do!” I said. I walked over, took the mallet, aimed at the bricks, pulled back and whacked. The bricks crumbled at my hands.

Stupid Mr. Moon. BAM. Wants to BAM just be BAM BAM fucking friends….BAM then kisses me BAM then tells me BAM BAM we shouldn’t have BAM done that. 

The guy who had handed me the mallet looked at me, surprised. A dust cloud of brick and mortar dust floated above our heads.

“Wow. You need a job?”

“I guess I had some frustrations.” I joked.

I walked away, satisfied.

“Hey, you want to take my card,” the other guy yelled at me.

“No, I’m good.”

It was over with Mr. Moon or Persian Guy or whatever the fuck I’m calling him now. I tried to do the right thing. I told him I couldn’t see him and he pushed and cajoled and I let him back in. I told him everything. I fussed at him. I said he was using me. Somehow he was able to give me the impression that he felt differently. That it was different now. I told him I didn’t want him to associate me with a mistake, a bad thing he was doing. So, when he inched his way back and there we were kissing again, I thought it’s what he wanted.

So, when he told me he had something to talk to me about……when he sat on my couch one more time to say, “We shouldn’t have done that,” I felt like a fool. He played me. Used me. I fell for it like a love-sick teenager. At 45, I’m no better than the 16-year old who believed her boyfriend when he said, “Let’s just go for a ride, I won’t pressure you, I promise.”

I looked over at Mr. Moon and his stupid sad little eyes and those perfect lips and his ugly salt and pepper hair.

“Ok, fine.” I said to him. “But I won’t see you again.”

“I know,” he said.

I’m no 16-year old. I knew what I was doing. I knew what I was doing from the minute he said, “I’m not available.”

I was the frog in the slowly heating pot. It was just wine and talking. It was just holding hands. It was just his head in my lap. It was just one kiss. It was just hanging out on a Sunday afternoon watching Friends. It was just a day trip to Avery Island. It was just my heart.

He was two different people. Mr. Moon at night, funny, affectionate, teasing, cajoling, sweet and sexy. Then he was serious Mr. Moon the next day. Regretful, committed, sad, resigned and confused.

Fuck that shit.

Bye Felicia!


Lennon Glasses was just getting out of the shower. I waited for him to dress and put on the ubiquitous hoodie. We walked for hours as he talked constantly. I laughed at his strange observations. “Movies didn’t know what they were doing until Jaws.”

“I want to go touch that tree.”

“I love tunnels.”

We walked along the university stadium and the parking lot surrounded by old oak trees.

“This looks familiar,” I said. I was flooded with memories. Bringing the kids there to learn to ride bikes. My ex’s racing days. Lots of cars and people and fun. Some of it was good. Not all of it.

As we navigated he reached for my hand. I didn’t take it and I wondered at the gesture. More than once he pulled out his phone to take a picture of me. I looked over at him, “What do you think you’re doing?” I hate being photographed. When I leaned over a railing to look down at a pond, he approached me from behind, his hands on either side of mine. What was going on? I wondered. Was he trying to un-friendzone me? Now?

We were looking at some old oak trees when I sat on a branch. He started to take a photo again. “Look up so the light is on your face.”

Oh, hell no.“This is excruciatingly painful,” I said.

“The branch?” he asked.

“No, being photographed,” I said.

By the time we were back in the Saint Streets, my son was looking for me. He was ready to return the car. I directed him to where we were walking. I gave Lennon a quick hug goodbye.

“I don’t know what that was?” I told my son.

“Him?” he asked. “No, no, no, no….shut it down.” he said.

I laughed.

It was just over a month ago that I would’ve welcomed a rekindling with Lennon. I’ve had a least three crushes since then.

Should I use Lennon as a rebound from Mr. Moon who was the rebound from Baton Rouge guy who was the rebound from New York Times guy who was the rebound from Z who was the rebound from No. 5 who was the rebound from…..I don’t remember anymore.

I know this: As God as my witness: No More Unavailable Men.

I mean it this time.

I’m serious.

I’m not kidding.



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One Comment
  1. Sounds like you are trying to convince yourself.

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