Sandals. Burberry brit. Popsicles. Ice cream. Peach tea. Swimming. Laying out. Tv watching. Library hopping. Job searching. Coffee talks. Flirting. Margaritas. White dresses. BBQs. Water balloon fights. Fireworks. Lake days. Church on Sundays. Theme parties. Missing friends. Forever 21.

Balcony talks. Road trips. Keg and barrel. Annie sleepovers. Staying up too late. Waking up too early. Indifference about being at the building all the time. Having no money.  Long walks. Good coffee. Running into old friends. Letting go of old friends. Being slightly anti-social. Pool nights. Woodchucks. Pottery painting. Moving in and moving out. Surprises. Thieves' Carnival. Sex and the City nights. Awkward situations. Girls Nights. Craving to be home. Not really wanting to leave. Doing big kid things that aren't very much fun. Sing-A-Longs. Sunsets on the loading dock because honestly where else would I be?

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

They told me her name was Ember.

“Amber?”

“No. Ember.”

            Clearly her parents had been fans of The Bangles back in the day. Perhaps she was conceived while they listened to “Eternal Flame”. I was expecting to meet a blonde sorority girl from one of the schools all of my friends had gone to. Possibly a Phi Mu? There’s no way Scott would be dating a Chi O. So when Ember walked in clutching Scott’s hand and wearing denim jeans, a wife beater, AND a denim vest, I was not sure what we were all getting ourselves into.

            All 7 of us introduced ourselves.

“Sorry guys. I’m not good with names. Don’t be pissed if I don’t remember any of those.”

            I hate when people say that. The people that say that always think it’s fine to mumble something about not being able to remember names, not being good with names…excusing their poor manners with a flit of the hand or bat of the eye.

            This and her poor fashion taste were the first strikes against her.

            She also kept her hand on Scott’s skinny thigh throughout the dinner. I did not think this was appropriate, but I didn’t let this bother me too much. There was still more to come.

            “He was 32.” This was my response when someone asked me how old the guy was that I dated in the fall. I dated a 32 year old….I am not shy about this. I’m not exactly proud of it, but in retrospect the age part of that relationship makes me giggle…and squirm. But mostly giggle. When Ember realized I was talking about a guy I had dated, she began to squirm. And make faces. And look at me as if I was an adulteress who needed to be stoned to death.

            We’d only met 15 minutes before.

            I feel that I am not a judgmental person. We all make generalizations, but I don’t think I’m judgmental. This girl was and it bothered me immensely.

            I started making vest jokes on the other side of the table. I went there. I also started calling her Flame. I also went there. It was a bitch move and I hated doing it, I felt terrible about it later. But I just couldn’t take her judgement…especially from someone I had just met and who was wearing a denim vest and wife beater. In public.

            I think the reason it hurt the most was because someone finally vocalized what I’ve been thinking since December. “32, what were you thinking?”

            Like Sean says, it’s more true when it’s said out loud.