I Don't Like Where This Post Is Headed

Yesterday started with a phone call from Keith, one that lasted an hour and made little or no sense. We had never spoken despite the bout of emails and phone messages in September, and that was by and large OK with me. I was surprised to hear his voice.

He caught me up on his life -- he lost his job a while back and spent the summer in Cabo San Lucas working on his brother's fishing boat. His upstairs neighbor, who drove Keith nuts with constant noise unmuffled by carpets or good manners, died of a heart attack while in spinning class at the gym. The little feral cat in his back yard is still there, and Keith is still feeding her. It seemed like Keith hadn't changed at all.

I spent the rest of my day running errands (because the rain actually stopped for a few hours) and at 4pm I was at home reading my In Touch celebrity gossip magazine when there was a knock at my door. It was Keith, and he wanted me to go to Mad Dog in the Fog for a drink with him. Spontaneity is the spice of life, he said.

So a drink turned into dinner and a few games of pool and we ended up back at my apartment making out all over the place. Last night with Keith marks the first time I have ever cheated on a boyfriend and I can't say why I did that. Some part of me wanted to test whether I could control my feelings for Keith, and this morning I am not at all sorry that he and I are not together. I don't think it will happen again. It's wrong to have one more time for old time's sake when there is someone else in the picture but fuck it that's what I did. And I'm never NEVER telling Patrick.