It wasn't all bad..

So, I was going through a good portion of my worldly posessions today, and went through every pair of pants I own, deciding which to take back to OU with me in a few weeks, which to leave at home, and which to donate. A pair of blue jeans surfaced, which I hadn't seen since one of my last weeks in Athens, way back in May, when it got warm outside. Shimmying them up my legs and over my ass, I felt a "crinkle" in some of the pockets.
From the front pocket I pulled a peach chapstick and a stick of gum. Ah, I remember now. The last time I wore these pants was my birthday. No doubt the chewy breath freshener and lip softener were ready for the birthday kiss I never received. But what was that thing that I felt in my back pocket?
Out I pulled the note from EricA, written on the back of a piece of scrap paper from the library, where we all had spent many nights pretending to study and actually playing euchre. By the time my birthday rolled around my relationship with the girls were a little rocky. But they still all showed up with me to karaoke that night, where an intoxicated EricA scribbled this message, slipped it in my back pocket for me to find months later, bought me a shot of whiskey, and hugged me goodnight.