I once dated a man that couldn't say my name.
Strike that. He could say my name, but either he was simply too lazy to or he'd over greatly estimated the charm of his accent. And sure, what girl wouldn’t buckle at the knees every time her Irish lover called her sweetly…
“Hey, Hedder…”
Hedder? Sounds like a dirty job on a porn set, if you ask me. David’s stubborn bastardization of my name was not the only point of contention in our six month relationship. He wore really bad sweaters. I didn’t like sleeping at his apartment. And then there was his pint-fueled temper and my emotional distance.
Yeh just got too many of dem walls up, Hedder.
After a few (or seven) pints, my otherwise charming fellow tended to lose not only his charm but his sense of decorum. One night at a bar in Cambridge, I distinctly remember a bouncer stepping between us asking if I needed some help. David had drawn himself to full height, blind drunk and raging about one thing or another (probably all those walls I’d foolishly left up around him) and I was pinned against the bar, silently crying.
Not one of my fonder memories. But yesterday afternoon when a friend lightly suggested that I “write about… hangovers and love” the first thought that popped into my head was of dating David. The worst of the hangovers in those days wasn’t just about cheap vodka. They were laced with cried-out eyes and a runny nose. Mornings spent with my head buried under the pillows, cell phone turned off and the house phone manned by mina bird roommates.
She’s not here right now, may I take a message?
I have some really nice hangover/love memories, too – mornings after spent sipping Gatorade and reading the Sunday Times, diner food and dirty talk or lazy hours of oversleeping and playing the alphabet back scratching game.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of those first.
Back scratching.........
a letter for the tone and texture of the technical writer tipsy
a letter for suggestive sauntering among soliptical persuasion's soul music
a letter for the pedals pedaling past the past with pauses petaling
a letter for dem watery walls will ya
a letter for the links linking laughter and loss
and a whispered letter willing was with will be wondefully, willfully wondering
disophy
Posted by: disophy1 at July 25, 2005 11:03 PMwhenever you write a new post, i read a few words, then i quickly cut to something else in a desperate attempt to prolong your latest entry, because i simply hate to see the end of it, because that means i have to wait a day or more for a great new fish story. thanx.
Posted by: RazDreams at July 25, 2005 11:55 PMThis is my first time reading yours, or anyone's, journal and now I'm hooked. Congrats because i hate to read, as stupid as that sounds. And by the way if that pic under "about this fish" is really you, then you should have bicycles lined up. And especially with your talent, and personality(from what i can read).
Posted by: nate at July 26, 2005 01:42 AMOh my gosh you should totally have a school of SK fish! ;)
Posted by: Benjamin Barenz Wagner at July 26, 2005 06:35 AMnice. I think we tend to recall the not-so-nice things in life more than the things that are nice.
btw, did you mean "mynah" by "mina"?
Posted by: essny at July 26, 2005 09:42 AMmina
n : tropical Asian starlings [syn: myna, mynah, minah, myna bird, mynah bird]
Posted by: Fish at July 26, 2005 09:47 AMI often remember the good things and ignore the bad ones when I'm still holding on. Perhaps it is when I get to the point that I remember the good and bad in their true mix that I'm no longer coloring my memory, no longer hanging on to things that aren't true?
Posted by: rg at July 26, 2005 10:19 AMi read SK's blog, too, and she is fabulous.
but i have to say - i'm a much bigger fan of the Fish.
Posted by: red at July 26, 2005 11:21 AMIrish accent? Generally sexy, though clearly not when spewed out after several pints. Sorry to hear about that.
Just to say...I started reading your journal over the weekend and I'm almost done with 2004...my teenager daughter was outraged I was invading your privacy (she heard me laughing out loud from the next room)...I tried to tell her you meant it that way but she's not convinced! I love your Fishy stories. Mother of 3, stepmom to 2, 2nd marriage...enjoy your singleness!!!
Posted by: Ali at July 26, 2005 01:11 PMHmmm. Is this bloke Irish per chance? Bad sweaters? Too many pints? Bad behavior in Cambridge bars? The accent...it's all adding up to the Boston phenom known as the 'Irish Boyfriend'. I recently blogged on such a topic...Although, this adds a whole new perspective.
http://shoottheduck.blogspot.com/2005/07/top-o-morning-to-youand-other.html
Posted by: The Duck at July 26, 2005 03:06 PMI've heard of all types of crazy hangover remedies, but never Gatorade and the Sunday Times.
Posted by: Neil at July 26, 2005 05:13 PMThere is nothing worse than being hungover and pissed off or upset at a boy friend. Like the hangover isn't bad enough! I use gatorade as well. Saltine crackers also work like a charm when you are having a hard time holding things down! Just eat them slow or you might see them again.
Posted by: SAE at July 26, 2005 05:27 PMthe painful or bizarre are always the memories that creep up first in our minds...they also make for the best stories...for sure.
Posted by: amanda at July 26, 2005 05:37 PMI'm sorry you had to suffer through the bad temper and the bad hangovers, but you write about it so beautifully that I guess something good came of it after all. That, and a little hard-won wisdom, perhaps.
But it would be okay if you had a little less to write about in exchange for lots of happiness--you deserve it!
Posted by: Alison at July 26, 2005 07:02 PMHi Fish,
I love your blog. Honest to god, you always seem to write what I'm thinking. This morning, my therapist asked me why I remember only the bad stuff, and it takes so long for me to remember the good stuff. Is it human nature (i hope) or some pathetic fatal flaw in me???
Who knows?!?!
Posted by: Diane at July 26, 2005 08:36 PMWow...I haven't thought of a mina bird since I read those "Fudge" books in first grade...does anyone know what I'm referring to? Jillian
Posted by: Jillian at July 26, 2005 11:50 PMHi,
I Love Your Logo
Wonderful writing Style.
Please stop bye and say Howdy anytime.
N a m a s t e ,
MB
Agree with Amanda. The tough memories seem to stay with us longer. You got me thinking about it and it's really true. At least for me, it is.
Posted by: Plantation at July 27, 2005 02:51 AMI've always found gatorade to be an excellent remedy for hangovers. I could probably be the spokesperson for a new marketing campaign advertising gatorade for this specific purpose.
Posted by: casey at July 27, 2005 11:35 AMHedder? Doesn't sound anything like fluffer to me.
Posted by: Belle at July 27, 2005 11:39 AMThe alphabet back-scratching game? What's that about?
Posted by: Jacob at July 27, 2005 12:15 PMMy last name is 15 letters long... it's sort of an expectation that the men I date will be able to say it. But many (particularly those from the midwest) have a lot of trouble. It becomes ammunition in fights... makes whatever they did seem even worse cause they can't possibly care that much. If they cared, they'd take the time to learn to say your name.
Posted by: tmaris at July 27, 2005 12:57 PMGatorade the cure for all!
My fondest is drinking Soju until 5am, thinking for some reason that since I threw up violently,I could handle pizza the next day. Laying in bed with him eating Dominos, just so he could hold my hair back again! Thats what I remember about Love and Hangovers!
Lovely, as always, Fish.
Posted by: Jasika at July 27, 2005 01:10 PMLove your blog. Will keep checking regularly. I was in NYC recently and thought it was the most amazing place in the world. Can I link to you?
Posted by: Anne at July 27, 2005 01:14 PMAnd I thought I was the only one who swears by gatorade as a hangover cure...
And the whole "hedder" thing... the position in the adult film industry you are thinking of is actually called a "fluffer"... I don't know why I know that.
Posted by: Dann Ryan at July 28, 2005 01:55 PM