In Which I Would Now Like to Die
Kids are down in Mississippi at Grandma’s house this week.
My oldest daughter texts me, “What do you remember about Amy L?”
I run through all Amy Ls I’ve ever known and land on Amy Lxxxx (I’m protecting her identity, obviously).
"Yeah, Amy Lxxxx, I remember her. High school girlfriend."
"We just found a pile of notes she sent you."
AND THEN I DIED.
They (the oldest and the 16YO) then proceed to send me excerpts from the notes.
Herewith is a sample from a note where she documented reasons why she likes me…
- I love your eyes! (They’re sparkly)
- I love your personality (Really wild)
- I love your shoulders (don’t ask me why)
- I love your arms (” ” “)
- You kiss good.
- You kiss VERY good.
- You like green M’n’Ms
- You’re not shorter than me (I hate going out w/ short people)
- You like me
- You like D^2 (ed. note: that’s how she referred to Duran Duran, her obsession at the time) + you put up with a lot of crap from me
- You understand me + know how to make me feel better
I’m going to be over here in the corner, slowly dying while my children send snippets of embarrassment from my past and write themselves out of the will.
(Also, she often addressed the notes to “S.G.” (Sex God), which is cringe worthy all by itself, but even more so when we take into account the fact that any sex we were having back then was purely theorectical in nature (hypothetical, really). Back to dying now.)
Though at least I have it in writing that I am a good kisser.
And that I have sparkly eyes.