I Lost My Best Friend

I Lost My Best Friend

The first time I saw her, a long, long time ago, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She’d just got into town from West Virginia. She and her boyfriend and a tiny, tiny baby, whose father was back home. She had a soft coal country drawl and big eyes that made her look like a reticent, renaissance madonna (the religious painting kind, not the pop legend kind).

It’s undoubtedly a sad commentary on my fit in the human race, but I usually avoided women with kids. And it was for that reason — that I thought I was safe, that I let myself get sucked in, just a little.

She jettisoned her boyfriend within two weeks. I tried sympathy but she declared that he was a nice guy but a loser. She gave every sign of being a callous manipulator but I would look into those eyes and melt and think it was just the hard, tough life she’d led so far. I mooned around for awhile, unwilling to make any move (a kid… she had a kid… I was a kid… it couldn’t work) but secretly hoping (I suspect now, to my chagrin) that something would happen to force the issue.

It did, in the form of an older guy with a house and a good job. All of a sudden she was married and less than a year and a half later they were selling the house and splitting the proceeds in a moderately nasty divorce.

Not quite the situation in the song below… but if I told that story, I’d be in trouble.

I lost my best friend the day that I lost you

I lost my best friend the day that I lost you
I lost my best friend the day that I lost you
I may have lost my best friend but at least I got id of you

I feel so bad when I see him on the street with you
I feel so bad when I see him out on the street with you
I wanna rush up to him and say . . .
“Don’t worry brother, I know just what you’re goin’ through!”

I lost my best friend the day that I lost you…

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