The French Girl
So one of the two times I did acid, I was in Germany and some friends of mine and I ended up at a little place called Jazz Life in Sachsenhausen, a crazy bar district in Frankfurt. This place was off the hook. 84 bars in a 2 block area, stacked 4 high, with every kind of flavor you could think of. English Pubs, Irish bars, German Techno, etc. It was the greatest place on Earth. Fuck Disneyland. Anyway, we ended up at Jazz Life and I was fucked out of my gourd. I remember meeting some girls and chatting them up as best I could. I was on the downside of my trip, but I was lucid enough to set a date with one of them for the following evening’s party at a buddy’s house.
The following day came and I was trying to make sense of the previous night. I knew I had a date but couldn’t remember what she looked like, so I asked my buddy who hadn’t been tripping. He told me that the girl was an utter hound, that she had a gigantic nose and that under NO circumstances should I keep the date.
Well fuck. I remembered having a pretty fun time with her, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to show up with a date to a party when she was ugly, so I avoided my house until after the party. When I got back the next day, there was a note pinned to the door. I don’t have much in the way of shame, but this note made me feel really badly. This girl waited for me to show up for a couple hours, in the rain, and I never showed. She said that if I wanted to see her, to meet her back at Jazz Life on Sunday. I figured that since I was so mean I had to make it up to her and there was no way I could blow her off twice.
The next day I went to Jazz Life, figuring I’d just suck it up, make some excuses, and leave, but holy hell there she was, cute as hell! Turned out my buddy was talking about her friend! I lied my ass off, said I was so sad that I’d missed her and was so glad she was willing to give me a 2nd chance.
We dated for the next few months and I learned I was deploying to the Gulf. She promised she’d wait for me, there were lots of tears, and I flew off to the Persian Gulf. Now here’s the part I’m not so proud of.
You know how you have the first few months of a relationship and they are just perfect, then reality sets in and things just suck? Well, I thought that if she thought I died, she could have the perfect relationship forever, that nothing would ever mar it, or break it, and her memory of those few months would remain unblemished.
So I never responded to any of her letters. Nothing. Not a single note. I never saw her again.
TL;DR — Good god I’m a dick
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