Wednesday, April 18, 2012

lost but recalled (occasionally)

i lost a girl recently. not under the couch or in the next town but rather, we parted ways. and so i am currently without a girl, which is regrettable but not sad.
just two nights ago i found a girl. not much transpired beyond the two of us making eye contact and in turn, my introducing myself and making some small talk. the girl has a tiny face. it is symmetrical and pleasing in every way but it seemed compact, like all the parts, the veiled eyes that seemed to hide behind a smokescreen of patience, the nose of a fairy so reminiscent of other fairies i have known, the full, fruity lips, efficiently scrunched together so as to consider the eye muscle effort involved in gazing upon her. when we spoke, as she smiled, her face came to life and a rush of joy surged through me like an orgasm. i could feel it wending its way up my torso towards my face and i had to combat it so she would not see and instantly recognize the pleasure she gave me with that smile. i wondered how freely she gives that smile. in case it was a trap or just to hide my hand i resisted the urge to let my brow fall backwards and a smile purse my own lips, the effect of which would have been instant recognition of my regard and ardor for her. no, instead i feigned a smile which completely belied all that and i continued on with the discussion. this girl had been sitting, chatting with a man who happened to leave briefly, which was when i took the opportunity to engage her. she seemed utterly unencumbered in as much as she was light as a wind blown leaf, unpretentious, open, honest, and in no way needy. ours was a casual flirtation if a flirtation at all but it was of the sort that propels me forward.
there is another girl with whom dinner has been discussed. she is a sweet girl, too, with the most perfect ass ever. she is eastern european and gives that sense that she would be at home in any costume. she is a sandy blonde and could as easily look the california beach bunny or the ukrainian harlot, the midwestern farmer's daughter or the french professional with her spectacles lending her an air of academia. when i think of this girl and our dinner plans i am awash with wonder and anticipation. i don't have to fulfill it, either. it is the wonder itself, the anticipation itself, that moves me forward. i am enjoying the possibilities. i am enjoying the possibilities immensely.
there is still another girl who shows me every kindness. she is not needy but she has sent a clear signal that she would be interested in exploring a different sort of relationship and i admire her will to get that out there without pretense and leave it like that. at the moment i am not interested and so perhaps it will never occur between us but we have a solid friendship which will endure no matter. i know she is okay with it staying as it is. i am not quite ready to get involved with anyone anyway, so it is best to be cautious with an old friend.
the girl i lost makes me sad but it is not regrettable that we parted ways. i have found i think of her occasionally. she was so interesting in the season we enjoyed together. she claimed to enjoy sex. she even said she liked anal sex though she needed a glass of wine or two to relax just right for it. she was however a follower at best in bed. she seemed to derive some pleasure from the act. she was giving in as much as she opened her body up to me. she could even initiate if passively. and her body was something. her figure was far better than the supermodels of parisian runways. there was not one area on her which anyone could reasonably call fat but her body was pure human. (i suppose it still is, actually, wherever it is.) the curves were full and round and in just the right places and proportions. the area of her lower back where her sides spread out into hips made me catch my breath. on the occasion when i do think of her it is easy to recall her lower back and the feel of her skin, like satin to the sensitive, puffy tips of my fingers, with the hint of a golden hue. i suppose she liked sex for the closeness it created and for that feeling of being connected. i don't think she was so carnal as to savor the pleasure and abandonment of it all, but then perhaps she was different with other men.
i loved her-make no mistake about it. but when i lose a girl i know how to move on. it's not like when i was a boy, so heartbroken and demure. i used to wallow in the misery, lamenting the loss of this one girl who seemed to hold the secret to my happiness, writing lonely poems of loss and despair, (and listening to the smiths all day.)
this girl i lost was probably too good for me, anyway. she is after all a freaking beauty of the first order. she is smart and funny, inquisitive and curious and articulate. she is worldly, which i mean as high praise. so many people on this planet are somnambulistic, dead while alive. she is not that and so, no wonder my original affection. when we were together i was good with her. i could have spent a thousand years with her, truly, but things changed. i thought she had a certain, uncommon inner strength i am always interested in finding. i thought she was so strong as to allow me to be weak. this is to say, i thought i could show her my weaknesses and my insecurities and she would not be put off. i mean, if confidence is sexy then i get it that a lack of confidence is off putting? hmmmm... insecurity is not sexy in any case. still, to achieve real communion with another person it's best to explore all sides and surely all human beings, even the sleepwalkers, have insecurities. i am not indicting this girl of being regular. she is far from that. there is however a plateau, a rarefied air sort of place where the person i want to associate with lives. i want a girl who is an artist of the mind. i could care less if she paints or draws or sings or writes or composes or directs or dances, though it is absolutely imperative that she appreciates.
appreciation is a wonderful thing; it makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.- voltaire
she should not be subject to the common bugaboos. when i suggested she nurse me back to health or when i complained about my difficulties in this world, i thought she would catalogue those things, share positive reinforcement, and move on. we had known each other for an awfully long time and there was little in the way of unfamiliar territory between us. i thought she knew...you know? i thought she knew about me. i thought she knew that i could not adapt to this world but rather i want to destroy it wholly.
she seemed to become interested in adapting, in acquiring materials and having an admirable career. she parroted something i had said to her a decade earlier once recently when she said she had learned about herself that she could be in love with almost anyone. when i said that one time, way back when, i meant that seeing the good in others came quite naturally to me and i loved the good in others. what she meant was that love was secondary to her, that she had mapped out a road for herself and the primary thing she needed to find in another was someone for whom that road map was agreeable or even complementary. she craved comfort and she expressed that by focusing on her career and her fitness and other things to the effect of relegating our relationship, this love oriented relationship, to a secondary status. for me that was backwards even for a season and so, i lost a girl.
i don't want to forget her, either. when i think back on the few significant lovers i have known, i think i remember what is most important to me about them and about the relationship. i don't think of them often but when i do it is important to me i recall what pleased me about them and our association.
this girl i lost had a lust for life that is unfortunately uncommon. she wanted to know everything and everyone and she wanted to try everything and experience everything. she liked drugs. she enjoyed experimenting with them and seeing how she responded to them. and she did appreciate. she liked the great writers, the great bands, singers, the warrior artists who wielded their media like a samurai. this was her greatest quality, her ability to appreciate, (hence why i was surprised when...)
i remember, too, the last time we were close how she had her back to me and she turned rolling onto her back and her left breast came over the top of her torso like a clustered army driving over a hilly plain. it was full and round and pliable and with a perfectly sized, brown aereola atop it. i remember this about her and i hope to remember it forever. it is a catalogued image for me. she was physically perfect in that moment and many others. she was more roundly feminine, more sensuous and erotic than any statue, photo, painting or written passage ever. ever. period. she also had a contemplative aspect. she could cast her eyes downwards and her face would become angelic, like a melancholy, introspective seraphim, her face framed by an a-frame of soft, black hair, her eyes like two upside down crescents of dark lashes, her nose a fixed object the rest of her face was built around and her imperfect mouth, lips slightly asymmetrical betraying her own sense of confidence and security.
i hope this lost girl reorders her world and puts love back on the plateau it should dwell on. i hope she finds a man with whom she can have a relationship for the ages. it is my last purposeful thought of and for her. otherwise, i don't plan on recalling her often. i am patiently pleased to consider the future.

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