Spencer

There are many things I could say about you.  You are goofy.  Intelligent.  Competitive.  Optimistic.  You put me on a pedestal at a truly terrifying altitude, but I won't pretend that you don't have a practically daunting list of virtues. 

You remember the story, of course: you wrote the following lyrics (or something very similar, it's been over a year now and my memory is something short of eidetic) in my honor: 

"Why don't you come here?" She purred, 

Pressed up against the door

I know my jaw's supposed to drop,

But this is canned, she's done this before

[Was there something else here?  I feel like there was.  I'm really not sure.]

They say that love is blind, 

But I'd say one-night stands are more near-sighted.

Ha. Well, I suppose I can congratulate myself for making an impression?

I told you that we needed to cut off contact after you sent me this song, and you were immediately chagrined.  You wanted me to know you were sorry even though you couldn't apologize to me directly, and that concern is certainly to your credit, as were the flowers you sent.   

I wasn't actually angry, though. Ha, don't get me wrong, I definitely never imagined someone would bother to compose verse immortalizing me in quite that fashion, but concerned is a much more accurate adjective. A third song about me? Really? I mean, a grumpy song, but still. I was fine with us hanging out and talking, if you wanted to, but if you still cared enough to be lyrically annoyed and put that to paper, you needed some time without my presence, even my virtual presence, to get to a place of apathy.  

Remember your irritation with me when I bailed on some everyday plans to hang out, after our breakup? 

"So I'm really not going to see you today?" appeared on my phone, under your name.

"You'll be fine," I swyped back, returning my phone to my purse and continuing my conversation without a skipped beat.

Ha, I remember being quite taken aback at the texted lecture I received in reply - I could have just apologized, I was being really rude, deeply inconsiderate etc.  Hindsight is much clearer than my poor vision at the time, and now I can understand that that text was more insensitive than I then realized.  The evidence, however, would suggest that my throwaway non-apology was remarkably prescient.  

Congratulations on your wedding, man.  Your wife is ABSURDLY beautiful.  I've never met her, and almost definitely never will, but knowing you, I'm willing to bet that she's also extremely talented, intelligent, and possessed of a delightfully off-beat sense of humor.  Certainly, her blog and instagram speak for themselves as regards her artistic abilities, something I most definitely never brought to the table when you were seated at it. 

I would not be surprised to discover that if she knows of me at all, she knows of me as a less than wonderful human being. If we're being honest, I deserve that more than I'd like to admit. In fact, this merits an official apology, so let me issue one: I'm sincerely sorry for my behavior.  Selfish, reckless with your feelings, and then dismissive of the consequences of my actions?  I'm not proud of any of it.  

It's wonderful that you got into medical school, and wonderful that you married someone who by all accounts is truly extraordinary.  I wish that I hadn't estranged you enough to prevent ever hearing from you, because I know you and your wife are going to go take down the world with your wealth of combined talents and awesomeness.  You're grand.  I'm sorry I was not, as you knew me.