High

I'm back in Colorado, and I spent a couple of hours talking to Italian Girl today, some of it face to face. It can't possibly be healthy to feel that good about anything.

There's actually one other person who makes that kind of euphoria wash over me just from the sound of her voice and the way we make each other laugh, and she communicates with me a lot more often via email but hasn't let me call her in about five years. (Maybe you'll reconsider some day.)

Anyway. She's been single for a year, she's hotter than ever, she did move but still lives in the same half mile radius that we and our short tripod leg, the seldom mentioned New York Girl, have always lived in, and she's gotten a couple of my birthday dinner memories scrambled up, especially the wife/mistress discussion where I'm quite certain it was IG I agreed to marry and NYG to keep as a mistress so that they could break out of their self-perceived stereotyped pedestal roles.

Which is how I would have wanted it anyway. NYG was even more temperamental, wounded, and ultimately flaky than Italian Girl. Tomorrow's her birthday, when I'll make my traditional call or Facebook posting that will be ignored. I haven't seen her since she moved back to NYC in 2004, and the last communication was a couple of months later.

I feel like I can fly right now, but the superpower than can drag that girl back into my life doesn't exist.