Happy Hour

Sex or drugs?

My first instinct was sex. Why else would a guy be showing up at 3am to visit a girl that he hasn’t talked to for months? He was dressed normal, looked normal, spoke normal. If the interaction had been Thursday at 3pm instead of Thursday at 3am it might have seemed normal. As it was I was left wondering why this guy would come to visit Jessica Miller, who lived in my apartment previously, but hadn’t lived there for months. Jessica wasn’t exactly stable either. She “moved out” without even taking her things. After further consideration maybe it was drugs. If it was sex he wouldn’t still ask for her if I answered the door, right? Who is this guy? Maybe they used to get high together.

That was five years ago. At the end of 2008 Jessica wrote a crazy paranoid letter to several of our neighbors asking for help, but I never found out what happened to her. Click here to read my blog about the full incident of that Thursday night.

Last Wednesday a group of us went to happy hour and one of the girls invited a couple of her neighbors. She introduces us to the guys. Chris immediately says I looked familiar and asks me if I used to work as a bartender. Chris Webb. He is a good-looking guy, but I didn’t recognize him. After introductions we learned that each of us walked to the bar so we were discussing our respective home locations. Chris was familiar with my complex.

“The one just past the Chase Bank on the right next to the methadone clinic?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“I used to know a girl that lived there for quite a while.”

“Oh, yeah? What was her name?”

“Jessica.”

“Jessica Miller? Apartment 7.”

I know the number because that’s my place now. I actually had just thrown away a piece of mail addressed to Jessica on my way to the bar. Small world. Turns our Chris actually dated Jessica for quite some time. He said she wasn’t crazy back then. Possibly their break-up may have led to some of her craziness.

I even pulled out my phone and looked up my blog from September 20^th, 2008. I read everyone my story about the male visitor I had at 3am that Thursday night. Chris responded.

“Um. Yeah. That was me. When you first said it I thought it sounded like something I would do, but now that you read the story I’m pretty sure that was me. Sorry about that.”

Apparently he climbed over the gate. Apparently Jessica was quite a looker. So that’s why I seemed familiar. I knew I wasn’t a bartender.

Turns out it was sex.