22 The request show

Dude. We’ve known each other since I was fifteen and you were, what, sixteen or seventeen? And we’ve been flirting with each other for about a minute less than that. So let’s just own it.

I distinctly remember I was in the one you did with Teach Your Children as the soundtrack. Walking down the hall in my lime green tank top. In slow mo. Blushing crimson when I watched it with everyone in the whole damn program. Blushing crimson just now, remembering. It doesn’t matter to me if you find it, that memory still sings. But it would be a kick and a half for my friends and family.

I counted five or six people I’ve written about this month that you knew. More that I didn’t write about. Maybe some of them you don’t remember any more, but still. You’ve known a hell of a lot of what used to be my secrets. And I’ve known plenty of yours, too.

Speaking of secrets, do you remember that you gave me as a reference for your clearance? I was relieved they didn’t ask some questions I was expecting, I guess you and I both passed that test! The thought of my name in your personnel file somewhere makes me laugh. That I got to see the nap on the other end is priceless, please thank your wonderful wife for me.

We survived The Ratio together, different sides but we’re both walking wounded.

When I finally, finally got to the radio station, you gave me my nickname, on little pinned notes on the bulletin board. Look at the URL for my Facebook profile, it’s there. It’s the one that stuck, the one everyone knows me by, some variant of it as my username almost everywhere.

Sure, we were on a break for a long, long time. We had partners and kids and jobs and other shit to do.

I adore you and I’m so glad you’re here. And I hope we can see each other in person soon, after this shitstorm’s done.