The last few hours have been splendidly strange. Most of it was spent in the plush couches of all the secret cafes I could think of, lounging about over long blacks, his hands massaging my thighs with my feet propped up onto His lap. Ocassionally, he'd bend down to kiss my knee and the side of my calves, lick the tips of my fingers, asking for a 'real' kiss, leaving me feeling completely out of the sphere of reality.
***
We were both standing by the philosophy section, browsing through the same book; something about how the demise of democracy would lead to greater individualism. It didnt particularly make any sense to me, so I wasnt concentrating much. What I was noticing was Him. There was just something about him and made me want to say something. Perhaps it was how he struck me as very bohemian. Maybe it was the choice of literature, the embroidered linen shirt, the funny goatee, I honestly cant place a finger on any of it all. I figured he was one of those drifters wandering about South-East Asia, and I was right.
I struck up a conversation, and it somehow led to him mentioning Richard Linklater, LSD and Waking Life. Wed been talking for what must have been half and hour or so, while standing on the same spot, and I felt myself feeling very comfortable. Before I knew it, and without knowing, Id picked up his hand and pulled him along to the graphic novels. It just felt like the natural thing to do, and I didnt even realize I was doing it till later.
He started talking about Coffee and Cigarettes, one of those movies with self-explanatory titles and a lot of engaging superfluous dialogue where people sat around talking about stuff. It occurred to me to mention Before Sunrise.
Its about two people who meet perfectly by chance on the Eurostar and find a connection and basically sorta fall in love with each other. And the guy, Ethan Hawke, he has to leave for the States the next day, and thats why its called Before Sunrise, because thats when they part and
It hit me like bucket of what-the-fuck.
Oh Christ. You must be thinking Im some kinda crazy girl trying to live out some convoluted, fantasy I just saw on DVD. Honestly, I know the resemblance (and I made a gesture that basically referred to him and me) is terribly uncanny, but I swear I didnt do it on purpose.
He laughed and said he thought it was totally bizarre too, but asked me to carry on with the synopsis.
We went for coffee at my favourite caf (I love the colours of the dcor), and must have spent the entire afternoon talking. He had a taste for my blend of wistful romantics, and we flirted in a very pensive, dare I say abstracted? manner. I would be conversing, and he would look right into my eyes for as long as I could sustain the topic, and not blink. He would stroke my fingers and twirl the edges of my hair. Or rest his chin against his palms and looked thoughtful, while sipping the foam off the latte. I thought there was some measure of theatrics, but it didnt make the situation feel synthetic. At some point, it occurred to me that perhaps, without consciously knowing it, we were emulating the movies we admired.
I had wanted to take him to another secret little place for cheese-cake and live music, but when wed gotten there, Id realized the place had closed down. Thats the irony of truly hidden coffee places. The thing that makes them fantastic; that theres nearly almost no one there most of the time, is also what closes them down eventually.
We walked around to the art museum, and there was nobody there (You cant help but like government funded secret places). And there was a point in time as we were walking through a small corridor into another exhibit, where he stopped me midway. We looked at each other for one of those whiles that seemed like forever and I placed my hands on his chest. For a short time we stood there, breathing, thinking about how, before I turned and walked on into the other gallery.
There was a walk along the river, and as we walked he started to hold my hand and took liberties of my shoulders as arm-rests. Then at some point, he stopped and pulled me into him and kissed my forehead, and the tips of my ears. I was enjoying the sort of physical contact we had. It didnt intimidate me and he was coming on very lightly. Then, as a bunch of pre-adolescent children and some Japanese tourists walked by, he pressed me to him and smooched.
I had felt like going home, because I had so much to do, but simply couldnt. I suggested hanging out at my pool, and we spent the rest of the night sitting facing each other on a sun chair, talking about relativity and the human incapability to understand what the eternal was, because our minds were all products that had an origin.
He pulled me up towards him and splashed a droplet of water onto my right knee.
I know this is going to make me sound like Im on LSD, but just listen. Imagine that the little drop of water is a universe, and theres all these galaxies in it, and a million things are going on in it at the moment, ever since I created it, and,
He stroked off the droplet, flicked it out of existence.
And now its destroyed. In one single moment, its gone. But whose to say it wasnt much longer? Do we ever really know anything? We could be terribly small in the big scheme of things, and our time passes this slowly, or this quickly, because were this small. What about outside this universe as we know it? Maybe there are two people, exactly like us, you and me, and the me is going to whack everything weve ever known existed into oblivion
You Are on some sorta drug.
I think its just you.
I laugh. Well, you dont need to think about it in such a cosmic scope. I mean, look at us, feel us. Its nearly midnight, and you think, god, time really flies when youre having a great time, but then there are points, where we just look at each other, and theres just this immutable silence and that one moment seems forever. And in the grand scheme of things, this whole situation, like how youre by my pool at the moment, is entirely out of reality. Its an anomaly, a bubble outside a bubble. It doesnt feel like reality, and time doesnt seem to make very much sense. I have realities I have to face up to after I say goodbye, and not very pleasant ones at that, but at this point, this is everything my life is.
My arms went around his neck, perfectly out of their own accord, and I pressed myself against him. He told me I was a fine, wicked tease and hitched me onto his crotch, suffocating me in an embrace and pushing his against mine. I cannot deny that I was enjoying myself, but there came a point when I thought it would simply be a bad idea to carry on, and pulled away a little.
Gosh. You know, Ive been having a hard on for the past hour. You know what are blue-balls? Ive got them now, and its giving me this incredible stomachache. I mean, no, dont get me wrong, I dont mean to suggest we should do anything you dont feel like, but I really need to use the bathroom.
You could come with me. I mean, you dont even have to do anything, Im not going to force you, I mean, its just Me, Im perfectly biddable?
Oh? Are you at the point where if I just touched your dick, youd come?
I sighed. You know, if Id met you a couple of months ago, I might have not given a shit, but Ive realized that with things like that; its great now. Id fuck you, and Im sure itll be fantastic. I like you, its been 8 hours, but I feel as if Ive known you forever, youre hella cute and all. And trust me, aside from the fact that its not biologically possible for me to have testicles ready to implode on themselves, its not any easier for me.
But I know I wont like myself for it when its all over. I wouldnt know completely, for sure. I could find out, but I think I wouldnt like myself for it, honestly. God I sound like such a priss, I try not to be but
He was very nice about it, and it didnt matter.
At breakfast, I mentioned my little belief about how people were just like cities, and how you cant just read about a city, and look at tons of pictures on it, and imagine that youve actually been there. Its not the same. And its likewise for people; Sometimes sleeping with someone would take you to that other level of consciousness for the person, give you that extra compassion.
It doesnt matter. Its all serendipity, and no ones to say it would have been better if we did sleep with each other. Circumstance made it the best it could be, its really none of our business to have interfered with it, although if we did, it would be all part of chance, wouldnt it.
Its just the way things are, I supposed.
Parting was such an annoyance.
If everything was really all part of a film, we would part without remembering things like email addresses. Thats the way films are. Melodramatic.
Oscar Wilde did always complain that women didnt know the beauty of letting memories stay memories in their pure state, instead they are continually dragged out and rehearsed until they are all ruined and bleached of colour.
He scoffed and wrote his contacts on a book hed given me (Voltaires Candide).
This is reality. People want to connect, partings can never been final, it doesnt have to be.
Hah, all right. See you around.
xoxox
***
We were both standing by the philosophy section, browsing through the same book; something about how the demise of democracy would lead to greater individualism. It didnt particularly make any sense to me, so I wasnt concentrating much. What I was noticing was Him. There was just something about him and made me want to say something. Perhaps it was how he struck me as very bohemian. Maybe it was the choice of literature, the embroidered linen shirt, the funny goatee, I honestly cant place a finger on any of it all. I figured he was one of those drifters wandering about South-East Asia, and I was right.
I struck up a conversation, and it somehow led to him mentioning Richard Linklater, LSD and Waking Life. Wed been talking for what must have been half and hour or so, while standing on the same spot, and I felt myself feeling very comfortable. Before I knew it, and without knowing, Id picked up his hand and pulled him along to the graphic novels. It just felt like the natural thing to do, and I didnt even realize I was doing it till later.
He started talking about Coffee and Cigarettes, one of those movies with self-explanatory titles and a lot of engaging superfluous dialogue where people sat around talking about stuff. It occurred to me to mention Before Sunrise.
Its about two people who meet perfectly by chance on the Eurostar and find a connection and basically sorta fall in love with each other. And the guy, Ethan Hawke, he has to leave for the States the next day, and thats why its called Before Sunrise, because thats when they part and
It hit me like bucket of what-the-fuck.
Oh Christ. You must be thinking Im some kinda crazy girl trying to live out some convoluted, fantasy I just saw on DVD. Honestly, I know the resemblance (and I made a gesture that basically referred to him and me) is terribly uncanny, but I swear I didnt do it on purpose.
He laughed and said he thought it was totally bizarre too, but asked me to carry on with the synopsis.
We went for coffee at my favourite caf (I love the colours of the dcor), and must have spent the entire afternoon talking. He had a taste for my blend of wistful romantics, and we flirted in a very pensive, dare I say abstracted? manner. I would be conversing, and he would look right into my eyes for as long as I could sustain the topic, and not blink. He would stroke my fingers and twirl the edges of my hair. Or rest his chin against his palms and looked thoughtful, while sipping the foam off the latte. I thought there was some measure of theatrics, but it didnt make the situation feel synthetic. At some point, it occurred to me that perhaps, without consciously knowing it, we were emulating the movies we admired.
I had wanted to take him to another secret little place for cheese-cake and live music, but when wed gotten there, Id realized the place had closed down. Thats the irony of truly hidden coffee places. The thing that makes them fantastic; that theres nearly almost no one there most of the time, is also what closes them down eventually.
We walked around to the art museum, and there was nobody there (You cant help but like government funded secret places). And there was a point in time as we were walking through a small corridor into another exhibit, where he stopped me midway. We looked at each other for one of those whiles that seemed like forever and I placed my hands on his chest. For a short time we stood there, breathing, thinking about how, before I turned and walked on into the other gallery.
There was a walk along the river, and as we walked he started to hold my hand and took liberties of my shoulders as arm-rests. Then at some point, he stopped and pulled me into him and kissed my forehead, and the tips of my ears. I was enjoying the sort of physical contact we had. It didnt intimidate me and he was coming on very lightly. Then, as a bunch of pre-adolescent children and some Japanese tourists walked by, he pressed me to him and smooched.
I had felt like going home, because I had so much to do, but simply couldnt. I suggested hanging out at my pool, and we spent the rest of the night sitting facing each other on a sun chair, talking about relativity and the human incapability to understand what the eternal was, because our minds were all products that had an origin.
He pulled me up towards him and splashed a droplet of water onto my right knee.
I know this is going to make me sound like Im on LSD, but just listen. Imagine that the little drop of water is a universe, and theres all these galaxies in it, and a million things are going on in it at the moment, ever since I created it, and,
He stroked off the droplet, flicked it out of existence.
And now its destroyed. In one single moment, its gone. But whose to say it wasnt much longer? Do we ever really know anything? We could be terribly small in the big scheme of things, and our time passes this slowly, or this quickly, because were this small. What about outside this universe as we know it? Maybe there are two people, exactly like us, you and me, and the me is going to whack everything weve ever known existed into oblivion
You Are on some sorta drug.
I think its just you.
I laugh. Well, you dont need to think about it in such a cosmic scope. I mean, look at us, feel us. Its nearly midnight, and you think, god, time really flies when youre having a great time, but then there are points, where we just look at each other, and theres just this immutable silence and that one moment seems forever. And in the grand scheme of things, this whole situation, like how youre by my pool at the moment, is entirely out of reality. Its an anomaly, a bubble outside a bubble. It doesnt feel like reality, and time doesnt seem to make very much sense. I have realities I have to face up to after I say goodbye, and not very pleasant ones at that, but at this point, this is everything my life is.
My arms went around his neck, perfectly out of their own accord, and I pressed myself against him. He told me I was a fine, wicked tease and hitched me onto his crotch, suffocating me in an embrace and pushing his against mine. I cannot deny that I was enjoying myself, but there came a point when I thought it would simply be a bad idea to carry on, and pulled away a little.
Gosh. You know, Ive been having a hard on for the past hour. You know what are blue-balls? Ive got them now, and its giving me this incredible stomachache. I mean, no, dont get me wrong, I dont mean to suggest we should do anything you dont feel like, but I really need to use the bathroom.
You could come with me. I mean, you dont even have to do anything, Im not going to force you, I mean, its just Me, Im perfectly biddable?
Oh? Are you at the point where if I just touched your dick, youd come?
I sighed. You know, if Id met you a couple of months ago, I might have not given a shit, but Ive realized that with things like that; its great now. Id fuck you, and Im sure itll be fantastic. I like you, its been 8 hours, but I feel as if Ive known you forever, youre hella cute and all. And trust me, aside from the fact that its not biologically possible for me to have testicles ready to implode on themselves, its not any easier for me.
But I know I wont like myself for it when its all over. I wouldnt know completely, for sure. I could find out, but I think I wouldnt like myself for it, honestly. God I sound like such a priss, I try not to be but
He was very nice about it, and it didnt matter.
At breakfast, I mentioned my little belief about how people were just like cities, and how you cant just read about a city, and look at tons of pictures on it, and imagine that youve actually been there. Its not the same. And its likewise for people; Sometimes sleeping with someone would take you to that other level of consciousness for the person, give you that extra compassion.
It doesnt matter. Its all serendipity, and no ones to say it would have been better if we did sleep with each other. Circumstance made it the best it could be, its really none of our business to have interfered with it, although if we did, it would be all part of chance, wouldnt it.
Its just the way things are, I supposed.
Parting was such an annoyance.
If everything was really all part of a film, we would part without remembering things like email addresses. Thats the way films are. Melodramatic.
Oscar Wilde did always complain that women didnt know the beauty of letting memories stay memories in their pure state, instead they are continually dragged out and rehearsed until they are all ruined and bleached of colour.
He scoffed and wrote his contacts on a book hed given me (Voltaires Candide).
This is reality. People want to connect, partings can never been final, it doesnt have to be.
Hah, all right. See you around.
xoxox