Small Town

Okay.

You know how sometimes, when you go to a place and you keep running into someone who looks really familiar, but you think there's no way you know this person?

Yeah.
That.

I went out tonight to a place here in town that I hadn't been to in a while (I'm y'know, all straight up and shit since Mr. Esquire came into the fray). I saw a guy I see every time I go in this place, but I knew I knew him from someplace else. Or he looked like someone I knew from someplace else. He looks different now. There are a lot more tattoos, thinner, more mature, hotter, rockabilly mother fucker.

Tonight, he finally asked me, "where do I know you from?" After some serious mulling over of the question at hand, we figured it out.

I named the person I thought connected us, and that was it.

Damn. Now I remember. The last time I saw you, you were on my floor, sucking my toes with your crazy ass foot fetish, and I'm thinking "what the fuck?!"

Now I'm feeling a little odd remembering what is now a virtual stranger in that way. And a little embarrassed I didn't make the connection sooner.
I mean, hello? Toe sucking is an activity generally reserved for the familiar, I should think.

I know I didn't fuck him, so that's good, because that would be really horrible. The not immediately remembering and all.

But if I let him suck my toes, there must have been something, so that's not so good.

I don't know what he remembers, but apparently he either likes his memories, or is using the old familiarity as a new jumping point, because now, he's all smiles, flirtatiousness and friendly.

It's weird.

This town is too small. I have got to move.