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I've always wanted to be one of those people who can saunter into a restaurant, order a meal and eat it alone. Ooh, to have that kind of self-confidence, to not notice or care or assume that everyone else in the restaurant would stare in secret jealousy, wishing they were that self-confident as well.

My ex-boyfriend Anson was aghast when I told him this. He never wanted to eat alone in public. He felt sorry for people who had to because he assumed they had no friends and were terribly lonely and went to restaurants for meager social interaction.

It's funny, how divergent our points of view were.

Anson had good taste in music though. I remember riding with him around Honolulu listening to Champagne by 311 or something by Jack Johnson, always mellow tunes like that. In fact, when I listen to Champagne, I think about sunny days driving around Honolulu with him. It calls up memories of past conversations. Like the time he said he couldn't wait for his little brother to get older and start talking. Anson said he'd tell his brother the sky was blue because it was reflecting the color from the ocean.

"What if he asks why the ocean is blue?" I replied.

"Because it's reflecting the color of the sky."

Stuff like that.

Some songs, like "Step by Step" by the New Kids on the Block, bring back waves of nostalgia, images of the Jordan Knight poster on my best friend Shari's bedroom wall. Of the fake concert we put on with our NKOTB dolls in her bathroom.

Other songs, like "Come and Get Your Love" by the Real McCoy remind me of this guy named Collin, who I had a crush on in high school. He never liked me, in fact made fun of me, but I remember watching him dance to that song. He danced well, especially for someone who was practically a goth by senior year. I thought I'd be sad every time I heard this song, but it passed and I still like it. The last time I saw Collin, he was behind the wheel of some car in Hilo, and he was fat.