Dear Jen

Dear Jen,

  I wish I did not say hello last night and just let you walk past like a ghost.

  I wish I had said these things to you last night.

  No I don't.  That would have ruined my evening.

  At one point your boyfriend shook my hand and apologetically stated, "She's drunk."  I find solace and comfort in that, then and now.

  To be honest, your boyfriend, as cool as he was, could kick my ass with ease at any given moment, which is the truest reason I held my tongue.

  You don't like my beard.  You were repetitive and loud about it.  I shrugged it off last night.  There are many things about your appearance I'm not into.  I don't feel the need to tell you about them.  I still don't.

  More important was your notion that I don't play punk music.  Again, you were loud and repetitive about it.  The clearest contradiction is that you had said moments earlier that we had not seen each other in years.  You have no idea what type of music I play.

  That's it.  I was drunk.  You were drunk.  You were mean.  You're mean.

-Joe