It would be easier to remember the chords if I could stop giggling.

October 9th, 2013, 7pm

It was 15.6°C with few clouds. The breeze was light.

But I returned to the apartment long past the witching hour, went to bed laughing and woke up smiling. It is like a breath I didn’t know I was holding. And this guitar that became mine on one lover’s birthday years ago, that another composed morning songs to me with, and a third picked up between the other six instruments in his repertoire, this guitar on my lap tonight is playing me out of the sadness I have always felt at a fated romantic decision made over a decade ago. As if that choice disqualified me from ever being crazy in love. Deeply affectionate, yes, loving and loved, but in love? Not so much.

It is delicious to be wrong, to stand corrected and holding a drink next to a handsome stranger who surprises you with who they are. To realize that so much is yet to be revealed, that you can change your patterns. That you cannot date that nice guy you’ve been out with half a dozen times and cooked dinner with this weekend. Self-knowledge is intoxicating. And funny. It’s time to remember the chords.

Paul, Craig, Cassie, Allan and 2 others said thanks.

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Kristen Taylor

drinker of raw milk, founder/editor of @saucymag, call me @kthread

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