I make mix CDs.  Yes, I know it’s old, but I still make the mixes.  I am now on the tenth volume of “Courtney” mixes.  I started making them for my friend Courtney a few years ago; the first one was probably in 2005 or so.  At the time of the first mix, I thought it would be a one off – that I’d make a CD of music for my friend and that would be it.

But then I made another, and another, and another.  The “Courtney” CDs were all comprised of music that I liked and that I thought my friend would like as well.  It turned out that she wasn’t the only one who liked what I made and I ended up burning CDs for as many of my friends who wanted them.

I’d also give them to people I was getting to know; if they liked the music then we could further our relationship.  I was short on friends because I was the bad guy in my marriage.  I was also short on friends because no one wanted to be around me.

The Courtney for whom I had originally made the CDs and I had a falling out.  A horrible friendship-ending falling out.  She didn’t think it was healthy for me to fuck indiscriminately; I didn’t think her “accidental” pregnancy was all that accidental.  She eventually moved to Florida to have her baby and I stayed in San Francisco.

We didn’t talk at all; I knew what was going on with her through mutual friends.  We didn’t talk for years.  I continued to make the mix CDs though because they still contained music I liked and that I thought she would like.  Every time I gave one to someone I had to explain why they were called “Courtney [Roman numeral].”

Eventually, we began following each other on Facebook.  Some time after that we exchanged messages.  I realized that I was still really angry with her and wrote to her that she was supposed to have been a friend and she abandoned me when I was at my lowest.  Her reasoning always had to do with her baby, and I get that, but considering I had been there for her during her low times of being in an abusive relationship I thought she could understand that I was having my own shitty time.

Again, we didn’t communicate with each other for a while.  There was no point in my telling her – again – how hurt I was, or in her telling me – again – that she couldn’t be around me and my self-destructive ways with a child on the way.  We knew where we stood.

Then we tried communicating on light subjects.  I had gotten a new computer and in the changeover lost the “Courtney” play lists.  I had a general idea of the songs, but not of the order, which is very important when I make a mix CD.  I like the songs to blend into each other.  I knew Courtney had the early “Courtney” CDs and asked if she could just send me the song lists in the proper order.

I sent her the “Courtney” CDs that I’d made since our falling out.  She was always complimentary of the CDs and said her mother liked them a lot, too.  We were exchanging more messages, still on light subjects, like television shows and the weather.

Eventually she gave me her new phone number; I told her mine hadn’t changed.  She was busier than me, having a job and a kid, so she had to find time to call me, which was difficult with the time difference between Florida and California.

Then I moved to Illinois so we were only an hour apart.  And I realized that she did what she had to do, I did what I had to do.  I had to be depressed for nearly three years so I could pull myself out of it.  I had to have a horrible fight with the Ex and Roomie so the Viking could rescue me and move me to Chicago.  I had to be able to appreciate how wonderful the Viking is to me, always wanting me to be happy and such.

My phone rang and it was Courtney.  I was talking a mile a minute like I always have with her.  She talked about her kid and how expensive pre-school is.  I said she shouldn’t have to pay that much since kids that age are basically retards anyway.  We talked about the vast difference in weather at her place in Florida and my place in Chicago.  We talked about how much less expensive our current homes are compared to San Francisco.  We talked for the first time in about three years.

I swear.  True story.

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