CALLEN!
My Girl!
I wished upon a Star
(But I Fell Too Far)
Vid Share Cred: Louis De Nennie
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Not Callen, (Below) But almost a ‘Dead-Ringer’–Especially the Smile
(Ed. Note: Callen Was / Is More Beautiful)
“It’s pleasure to try ’em; it’s trouble to keep them.”
“Breaks my Heart Just Lookin’ at Her”
If…
Jenna
Indigo Girls Chapter One: Jenna
was the ‘air-brushed’ perfection, professional beautiful angel,
thus it follows… yin and yang:
Callen was the unkempt, unsteady, unreliable, super lazy blonde stoner / juicer who did not give a fuck.
Half the times she showed up for work she was slightly stoned, or drunk, or a combination of the two.
And Of Course I fell madly in Love with HER. I really had No Choice.
Laws of Physics.
And she had the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. To see her smile was something I cannot begin to describe, but of course, I tried not to notice, because I was a “Professional Security Guard” (Licensed-to-Carry-A-Gun-But-Not-Licensed-To-Ever-Use-It)—and not supposed to be prone to emotion, nor feelings.
She had long blonde hair (have I ever mentioned that I have never had any luck with blondes? Pretty certain I have, but I seem to be drawn to them. Moth to flame, as it were.)
She was about five foot eight and just a little ‘chunky’ but a good kind of ‘chunky’. She really was a beautiful, kinda country-looking woman. She had a ‘soft’ look. This is hard to explain and probably does not look good in print, but she had a soft look.
What I am desperately trying to explain is that she just looked ‘comfortable’ and potentially ‘comforting.’ (I could fall safely asleep in her embrace) Unlike a lot of the women I have ‘experienced’ in my life; most of them were ‘uncomfortable.’ And NOT safe.
Oh fuck it. Let’s move on, shall we?
Yet trust me on this one folks, I have been with women from all over the world. I know women. I love them and I appreciate them. All manner of shapes and sizes of them. This one, this Callen, was ‘Top Shelf.” But moving on from my ‘sexist’ commentary over her looks:
Callen, being ever lazy would ask me to do things that were not in my wheelhouse nor in my mind to do. I was a Fucking Security Guard.
That was MY Job!
My ONLY JOB!
She would ask me (ever so nicely) to deliver towels or shit paper or coffee to some guest’s room. First few times she asked me to do these things I just invited her to fuck off (I did not verbalize it that way, but she caught the drift).
Now please allow me to explain something:
Hotel Indigo had a ‘gym’ of sorts. There were weights and a weight machine. I had eight hours to kill every night and I was big ‘Into’ lifting weights back then, so I took about an hour out of my shift every night to lift weights in their gym.
While sitting in my car one night, after finishing my workout, I had a ‘sudden’ epiphany.
How could I refuse Callen’s simple requests of me to break MY Rules, when she did not call me out for breaking the Hotel Indigo’s Rules?
(I was not supposed to be using their ‘Fitness’ Center.)
I got off my ass, walked into to Lobby and had this statement for her:
“Callen, do you know what an epiphany is?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, I just had one. I owe you an apology. You don’t say shit about me spending an hour a night working out in your fitness center. I enjoy doing that, and you never say shit about it. You would never ‘drop a dime’ on me FOR Doing it. This much I know about you. Certainly, if you need me to do something for you that is not strictly in my ‘Security Guard’ purview, from now on, I will do it. I owe you this. I am very fond of you. More than you know. You are good people.”
I extended my hand. She took it. And shook it.
“We good?” I asked.
“Yep. We good,” she replied.
And I was more in love with her at that point than was prudent.
“It’s pleasure to try ’em; it’s trouble to keep ’em.”
–Joni
Oh, in case anyone is wondering, Callen was probably twenty-eight and change, years-wise.
These kinds of details are not important to me.
But they may be important to the casual reader.
So there ya go.
******
Very sad footnote:
I discovered after we had known each other for some time that she had had some real tragedy in her young life:
She woke up one morning next to her dead boyfriend.
He had just died during the night.
She could not explain why nor how, but I am quite certain it fucked her up.
As it would anyone.
Her story made me almost cry.
Actually it did make me cry, but I waited until I got back to my car.
Then I tried to think up ways I could win this woman.
Came up empty.
Probably for the best: hers and mine.
“Words of love won’t win a girl’s heart anymore….”
“Just Don’t misspell her name, ’cause she’s the one that got away.”
More on my recent
“Callen Remembrance Regret.”
I woke up with her on my mind–I suppose this is obvious, and I don’t really need to verbalize it.
But I do it anyway…
