Random Musings

[radommusingsbkgrl]

All Too Well

Love this video. Gave me the feels, like something I haven’t experienced in years. 

I hardly write anymore but thanks Taylor. This masterpiece inspired a reply. 

His response to “All to Well” a decade later....

“They weren’t all young.” It had been three years since the book had been released and two years since she’d last consciously thought of him. Then she looked up one day and there he was, staring back at her across the bar, like they were old friends. “Excuse me?” He grinned boyishly, looking down into his drink in that self-effacing way, she remembered a little too well. “You said that, in your book,” he paused making sure he quoted it correctly, ‘[You’d] get older, but [my] lovers stay [your] age.’ Not all of my girlfriends were young,” he chuckled, looking up at her, “In fact, many were older than you are now.” He reached down and thumbed the edge of his glass, smirking as he continued, “I just thought… I should set the record straight.” “Hello, it’s nice to see you as well,” she quipped.

Clearing her throat, the realization was now fully setting in that yes, she was in fact, sitting across from /that ex/.  When had he come in? Had he been there the entire time? She made a mental note that she really needed to start paying closer attention to her surroundings. “Well, let’s not go that far,” he cracked. The first barb of the conversation, or was it the second? For a moment she felt like she was 21 again, grasping for straws as he effortlessly, verbally, plucked them from her fingers, one- by- one. She glanced at her watch, thinking that of all times for her editor to be late, this was possibly one of the worst. What was that cheesy saying again? ‘Of all the bars, in all the cities…’ she was unlucky enough to pick that one. Smiling hastily, she was considering excusing herself before he continued, “I read the book… the whole thing.” “You know, there is such a thing as a comments section….” She hoped he’d take a hint. “Oh, I had considered that, but for old friends don’t you think that’s a little tacky?” “I hadn’t thought of us as friends.” “You see, that’s what always bothered me most about the book. I mean, apart from the slight character assassination and scathing review of our intimate moments.” “Character assassination?” She choked out a laugh. This was it; this was one of those moments where your subconscious begs you not to take the bait but your pride skillfully overrides logic with a smarmy, “Well this just got interesting.” “Fascinating, that’s your point of view?” “I thought we both knew,” he continued, “I thought you got me. We understood each other and were friends.” It was hard to trace back to who you were more than a decade ago, past all the things that had happened since, to try to remember- were you ever really friends? But one thing she was sure of, this conversation had jumped the tracks and was heading down a road that was starting to feel awfully similar to their breakup. “We were friends, right up until the point that you decided that I wasn’t right for you.” He got up suddenly. Picking up his drink, crossing the semi-circle of empty chairs until he was sitting next to her. “Did I ask you to come and sit by me?” She looked around, at a non-existent audience, hoping that she wasn’t the only one absorbing the absurdity of the moment. “No, but I thought the whole bar shouldn’t be part of our conversation.”

“What bar?” She wanted to ask, but was already swimming in the sensation of being physically repelled. Smell was a funny thing. Usually an afterthought, it’s tightly tied to every other sense. And his smell was something that was difficult to forget, even years later. The tingle of it making something in the back of her mouth water. Causing the thick shield of indifference, she’d carefully crafted over the years to experience a break in the surface. As a twinge of intense emotions, what she used to think of as magic, struggled to burst through. Leaning back, she considered scooting her chair away when he accused, “Have you never hurt someone, but were too caught up in yourself to realize it?” “I-” He reached over then and did something she didn’t expect- he hugged her. With her arms limp and trapped against her sides, he whispered, “I might be older than you, but I was just a kid too. I’m sorry. We don’t all get it right the first, second or third try.”

He lingered there, like it was the right thing to do. As if time between them hadn’t really passed at all. They were right back in the thick of it, for the briefest of moments, as he finished, “It was… I didn’t know it then, but it was. And I should have said it.” Someone had once told her that the things you find mysterious and sexy about the ‘one that got away’ from your past, would inevitably become the things you would have hated about them, if they hadn’t gotten away, ten years in the future. He’d once felt like home, but not a familiar one. More like a feeling she’d always been striving towards. And now that she was there, now that she knew she didn’t need someone else to create that for her, she felt a sudden new sense of unease. As she pulled back slightly, so she could see his face, she was looking at another version of herself. A reflection of the mistakes that she’d made since him, that she realized now weren’t because of what happened between them, but of her own making. That was the worst part about heartbreak. When you were heartbroken you were always the victim. But when you weren’t it was always someone else’s problem. And each new wound made it harder for you to feel the depth of emotion you did the first time. Until eventually you were numb. Inevitably allowing the cycle to continue to repeat, leaving new victims in your wake. Until, maybe one day, it didn’t anymore. “Sorry I’m late,” interrupted them both, as they broke apart. Staring up at her confused editor, she considered introducing him before he stuck out his hand and did it himself. “I don’t want to keep you,” he said, standing now. Digging in his wallet he pulled out a few bills, looking to make a hasty exit before she cut in, “No other notes you’d like to share?” The whole situation felt too familiar. He was always so ready to hit the escape button, skip out with no further notice, when it was most convenient for him. He smiled, warm this time, like she remembered from long ago and answered, “Keep writing….” “Oh, you’re a fan?” her editor chimed in. He studied her, one last time, waiting until they made eye contact, “I’ve read everything. You’re exceptional. Very talented. But you know that… a little too well.” Tipping his head, he muttered polite niceties to them both before turning for the door and walking away from her for the last time.

 Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well?

Just between us, do you remember it all too well?

Just between us, I remember it all too well