Thursday, May 27, 2010

Love Me, Please Love Me

When I was 17, I adored a boy who was my best friend at the time. He was four years my senior, finishing college as I was finishing high school. I had strong feelings for him for nearly a year, but he didn't like me back. We spoke on the phone incessantly, took long rides together, and I went to every one of his band's shows. We were attached at the hip. Once, I house-sat at his apartment while he went away for the weekend, so eager to do him the favor. I took care of his cat, laid on his couch, slept in his bed. That night, while messing around on his desk, I found a note indicating that he was actually visiting a girl named Pauline a few towns away, whom he was having a secret tryst with. I was heartbroken. I went into his kitchen and found some vodka and gulped it straight from the bottle. Around that time, the Dreamers had come out and needless to say, I became obsessed with all things French. The song above was on the soundtrack and I was so taken by it. My crush, an excellent piano player, would play it for me and he could actually hit the high notes. I was impressed.

Later that summer, I traveled through Europe with another friend for six weeks. I had gotten over my crush by then after another heartbreaking prom experience and instead fell head over heels for some Norwegian guy I met in London (and then a Swedish guy I met in Paris...) Anyway, during my last days in Paris, my traveling companion left early and I met up with my former crush in Paris. He was staying at a flat all the way on the south side of town by the university with three Brits--a brother and sister, and another girl who was somehow romantically linked. He invited me to stay with them for my remaining 2-3 nights.

I remember it rained during those last days and the flat had a skylightm so this large, airy apartment was cast with a cloudy light and the feeling of rain. We stayed inside as if all of Paris was in the apartment instead of the streets. We made spaghetti for supper, played games, and all splayed out on the floor, listening to this song over and over again. Needless to say, it was bittersweet.

me in Paris the following summer, after freshman year at college, photo appropriately taken by my then latest boyfriend, an Italian

1 comment:

PeaceRegime said...

Great song. I love the piano. The pain of heartache is probably the worst of all. Thank God for music.