So I got in the car and drove. Traffic. Traffic. Then it cleared up a little. Stopped off, did some shopping. Drove. Traffic. Music. Finally got there. Stripped and jumped in the pool. Ahhh. Then opened the house, warmed up, relaxed. Cooked dinner. I made a simple meal, fried some burgers, had some leftover roast, pesto sauce with toasted whole wheat pitas, chopped liver. Somehow it was one of the best meals I've ever eaten. Then I flipped through some channels on TV. There was nothing on. And if there was, I flipped that channel during a commercial break. Seriously, I don't know how people watch broadcast TV. So I popped in a DVD and watched Sunset Boulevard, or Rocky. (I watched both over the weekend, just don't remember which one fits into this point in the story.) And it was all so amazing, I had such a good time.
After the movie, I went out on the porch, and took a giant lungful of sweet country air; it was after midnight and everything was silent. I looked up at the starry sky and looked all around, the trees, the lawn. Beauty everywhere. And then I cried a little because I was all alone, there was no one to share this great night with. But then I cheered up, that's a small thing to kill the mood over. I went out and sat on the swings, climbed on the monkey bars, and jogged a little. Then went to sleep ever so peacefully.
When I awoke, I made a pot of steaming cocoa. Read Frank O'Hara's Ave Maria and Edna St. Vincent Millay's What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why. Reread Prufrock, and Ginsburg's America. Then swam a few laps, came in and made breakfast. I found nothing on the telly, so I went for a walk. Made popcorn and watched another movie. Got out the basket ball and shot some hoops. Took a long bath, so relaxing I half fell asleep in the tub.
The only thing missing was the people, but to paraphrase Sartre, people are hell anyway. I got back to the city just in time to be fashionably late to the ball. Okay, well more late than was fashionable to be honest. But I heard they ran out of food early on and had to order more. The organizer called the caterer frantic, "Send me anything you've got, we're on empty here!" So I must have gotten there right after the food was replenished, which was cool because I hadn't eaten much all day. I made the rounds of hellos and how are yous and good to see yous and congratulationses and thanks yous and then dug in.
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3 comments:
A post like this makes me wonder if you really love people for their body. Sure, that might be a huge plus - maybe you lust after body, and maybe you also appreciate its natural beauty.
But you also seem to thirst for conversation, for mutual appreciation, and for the wonderful warmness that relationships bring. Just wanted to put that out there.
Glad you had a nice vacation.
Thanks. I do love good conversation, though I'm not much of a deipnosophist, so it happens rarely. And mutual appreciation is great and all, but if the guy's not hot it doesn't interest me. It almost feels ridiculous to sit and have a conversation or build a relationship even with a great guy if he's not attractive. That's the base from which everything else grows out.
Well that's an assumption I don't usually take for granted. I mean - sure, when finding my spouse, it certainly is an assumption I take for granted.
But you seem to be looking for a FRIEND as well. All that self-sharing, mutual appreciation and deep conversation? That can happen without a hot guy.
Think about higher-order vs. lower order pleasures. Sure, your hot body grinding against someone else's is a really powerful pleasure, but surely, you can classify it as lower-order. At a time of deep and meaningful conversation with someone who cares about you, the oneness you experience is so profound that hot sex (unless it is an extension of that relationship) is quite meaningless. Thus, classified as a higher-order pleasure.
Maybe you should question some of your assumptions. I'm not saying that you should deny yourself hot guys - I'm saying that you should try and cure your loneliness. They can be done separately.
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