The Scabs. The Scars.

The other night I got lost while trying to prove a point.  I was running in the cold dark of night, and took a wrong turn in a somewhat sketchy part of Santa Rosa. Not too sketchy,  but you know, when you’re super hot like I am, you need to be careful.

I stopped to get my bearings, so of course a van appeared out of nowhere and sat there in the street, idling, as if to let me pass in front of it. I waved it on, then jogged around behind it and down a side street that I assumed would get me to the right place. In general I try to give people and vans the benefit of the doubt, so when the van backtracked and then also turned down the side street, I knew it was because they were just visiting friends there….

I decided to pick up my pace, just because I wanted to push myself and get a really good workout. Not because I was sure it was a rape van and I’d be embarassed if I got abducted while trying to prove to my boyfriend that I could, in fact, run to his house at 11 o’clock at night while drunk. He’d guilt-tripped me into it because I’ve been avoiding him lately, since I have a cold sore and am hideous to look upon. I’m pretty sure this guy deals in wizardry and spells though, because by “avoiding him” I mean he’s tricked me into showing my face to him almost every day I’ve had this thing, even though my plan was to do the exact opposite. Our relationship is still new enough that I’ve been trying to keep a certain level of mystery and beauty. That’s all been blown to shit now.

So my running. I was pleased when I saw the train tracks, since I knew they’d take me to the street I needed. It was really dark. So, yeah, I fell. I’m a pretty good  faller. I mean, I can get up and say “fuck, that sucked” and then keep right on going. I’m no baby.

So I made it to my  boyfriend’s house. He was highly amused that I’d actually run there  (like I said I would). I was in workout clothes and everything.

After I caught my breath and stopped sniffing like a junkie on a bender I said “oh, and I fell a little bit, too, ha!” and sat down to check it out.  I pulled up my leggings, expecting to see a scraped knee. Instead we found a HUGE BLEEDING GASH (while this image instantly makes me giggle and think of a vagina, I am not talking about a vagina. I am talking about a surprisingly deep two-inch-long  jagged very bloody cut on my knee).

My man has a first-aid kit. He doctored me up. Then we watched Portlandia and had from-behind sex on the couch, in the dark. This because of the cold sore; I told him we couldn’t have sex during which he could see my face. We’re creative.

The next day I took a picture of my wound (the knee!) but since I’ve had a cold sore and had recently been on my period, I hadn’t shaven my legs in a while, and the hair around my knee distracts from the seriousness of my injury so I won’t share it with you here. I did show the picture to my friend Mike, who said “Look, you don’t have to worry. My feelings for you are ALREADY completely platonic.” Then he added “Seriously!! I’m supposed to have lunch in 20 minutes!!!” He doesn’t like it when I send him  gross pictures.

I also showed the picture to my boyfriend. He made that sound that involves sucking air into clenched teeth with a pained look on one’s face, and said “ouch! That’s gonna leave a scar.”

(totally lied about not showing you)

Well, that’s okay. I have a lot of scars.

Earlier in the day my friend Ben was in the area and stopped by to see me at work. I told him my story and lifted up my jeans to show him my knee, which turned out to be dumb, as it was covered with Star Wars and Hello Kitty band-aids. He got to see the hair though, and the other scar I already have. After I’d put my jeans back down, he asked “What’s that scar from?” (Ben likes scars. I have a big one on my face from when I was attacked by a dog as a kid. He’s a big fan of that one).

“Oh, which scar? What leg is that? Um, I think it’s from falling on an escalator when I was a kid” (pull up pants again) “oh, nope. That one’s from crashing my motorcycle. There’s gravel in that sucker!”

“Oh. Just from crashing a motorcycle. No big deal.”

“Heh heh, yeah.”

“Nice cold sore, by the way.”

“It’s a good one, huh? So huge.”

We laughed.

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