The Last Time I Saw Mr. Wrong...

Evan, one of my platonic friends called me the other night, wanting to know if we could get together. I knew that it was rather late, but I was so bored. I didn’t see any harm in the situation. We went over to his house to watch movies. That really was my first mistake in my opinion. We almost had sex, but we didn’t.

From the second his lips touched mine I was able to kiss him back. I have never really been interested in Evan but it had been so long since I had had human contact of that nature. Then before I could help it I started thinking about Mr. Wrong. Evan could never be him. I asked him to take me home.

As he drove me home some sad song came on the radio. I leaned back and all I could think about was that he wasn’t Mr. Wrong. No one could be, no matter how much I wanted them to be. And then I couldn’t help but remember the last time I saw Mr. Wrong…

“What movies do you have?”

I looked at Mr. Wrong grinning. He wore a smirk of sorts on his face and in that moment I had never found him more attractive.

“What do you want to watch,” I asked him, giggling.

“You smile. Whenever you smile there’s no possible way for you to be prettier,” he quietly stated.

He suddenly looked so sad. I knew this could very well be the last time I would see him for a very long time. I knew that he needed help, needed to clean his life up. I also knew that there was a chance he was going to screw it all up again.

I turned away from him. I felt like I was going to cry. That was the last thing that I wanted him to see. There was no real reason for me to cry over him. We were barely even friends. Kissing him one time didn’t really mean anything.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, refusing to turn around.

Suddenly I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. I leaned against him and sighed deeply. I knew maybe in another life time this could be. Definitely not in this one, though. There was also that girl…

“Does your girlfriend know that you’re here,” I asked still in his embrace.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She calls herself that. I’m fucking her. I live with her. She has money…”

“You’re using her,” I accused, turning around. His arms were still wrapped around me. Our faces were about an inch apart.

“Sometimes you do what you gotta do…”

“You’re fucked up. You’re supposed to be with someone who cares about you. Well, I’m sure she cares about you, since she’s having you live with her. But, you don’t care about her!”

“Who do I care about, then? You,” he challenged.

I didn’t even want to know that answer to that question. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to deal with.

“Why did you tell me the truth, about your relapse,” I questioned.

“Because I wanted to…”

Then he kissed me and then all I can say is that he gave me the best sex I’ve ever had. We hung out for a little bit the next morning. It was kind of strange because there was nothing awkward about it.

I remember watching him leave that morning. I knew even at that point that it would be a very long time before I saw him again. I still think of that morning from time to time, wondering if things could have been different. I want to see him again…