I have stories I want to tell. I’ll begin with some of the freshest. I’ll get them out as quickly as possible. Better sooner than later. I can revise and refine and rekindle and remake the story once its captured. Too much time allows the acuity for details to whither and warp.
Valentines day. I told her I didn’t want to make plans, that dinner was an over rated cliche. Instead we made a casual commitment to see each other. Earlier that night I began thinking, “Yea… I could just as easily do nothing and I wouldn’t feel bad about it. Heck, it’d be no pressure, and honestly, it would make my life easier.” but as the day went on I began to evaluate how I felt for her. I felt compelled to do something. Not because I wanted to win her, cause god knows I don’t care about winning a girl. But because I liked her.
Anyway. That evening I packed my car with some blankets and wine glasses. I visited to the liquor store and picked up a bottle of her favorite wine: Malbec. I also went to the flower store and picked up a single red rose. I figured, as much as I really hate the cliche rituals surrounding the holiday, every girl deserves to get a rose now and then. A single red rose was modest enough.
So I picked her up and asked how she was and what she wanted to do. I told her I didn’t really have plans, so I’m not sure what she thought when she was getting into my car. It was only the second week we had been seeing each other. She said she didn’t mind what we did. I suggested love circle. It’s the highest point overlooking the glistening city scape of Nashville; a grassy hill situated in a small neighborhood. I figured it would be appropriate.
I parked along the road crowning the hill and we got out and walked towards its summit. It was cold and chilly. We stood silent and admired the lights: the city hummed and glowed like a distant star. We hugged each other. I told her I wasn’t the romantic type… which is sort of a lie since I like being romantic and doing romantic things. She said she didn’t care and she enjoyed the city. It was damn cold though. A biting breeze. I told her I had some blanket. She gave me a skeptical glace. I explained I keep them in my trunk just in case: she was incredulous. I smiled.
We began walking towards the car but paused before making the descent. She wanted to roll down the hill. While I am all about fun, I was less then enthusiastic about the idea. Maybe I was caught up thinking about how I was gonna play the evening out. So, as much as I wanted to be fun and playful, we didn’t roll. Instead we ran down the hill in reckless abandon. When we reached the bottom we realized there was a retaining wall and we screeched to halt ourselves before we careened off the four foot drop and into the road. The near danger caused an impulse of laughter.
When we got to my car I decided to abandon a romantic approach. I didn’t really care enough to smooth her over, and quite frankly, I really didn’t want her to think that was my motive. The holiday is cliche as hell as it is.
So I popped the trunk and walked to the back of the car. She followed. I decided that, well, I wasn’t about to do it romantically or smoothly no matter how I spun it. She looked in the trunk as I pulled out the rose. “I got you a rose… I thought that since it was valentines day you deserved to get one.” She gave a look of surprise and stood silent, almost speechless. She reached out, delicately grabbing the rose, and thanked me before throwing her arms around me. I then pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses and received the same reaction. “You are a little romantic. More than you led on.” I played it down. We grabbed the blankets, walked up the hill, and found a small little area on the side opposite of the chilling breeze with a nice view of the city lights still in sight. I popped the wine and poured the glasses. It was a Monday and we had school so I told her we only had to drink a little. We then proceeded to snuggle up in the blankets. I asked about her dreams and life long desires. We talked about where we wanted to be in five, ten, twenty years. It was nice. I really enjoyed her company.
After about forty five minutes we decided that we might freeze if we stayed out any longer so we packed up and decided to go to my house. The rest of the night we grew in knowledge.
Tonight, February 27th, was a gorgeous night. The warm evening air oscillated from a soothing stillness to a sedulous soft breeze. I decided I would delay some writing and go to centennial park, but not on an empty stomach. I stopped at the market and picked up a small loaf of artisan wheat bread, two year aged Irish sharp cheddar, and a green olive and tomato tapenade to top it off. On my way to the park I decided that I’d enjoy company so I called her and explained I wanted to soak up the warm evening air. She had a meeting in forty minutes. I explained it was an offer and that she could come for however long she wanted and that I could be there in twenty seconds. She jumped on the opportunity.
We pulled up next to the Parthenon and pulled out the blankets. I grabbed the bread and cheese and explained that I brought a small snack to enjoy. She was enthused with the idea. We set up under a tree overlooking the spacious lawn laid out before the parthenon. We munched on the treat. It was really good… but not so easy to manage. Wheat grain bread isn’t exactly smooth, but contains a medley of seeds which crumb the bread. Two year aged cheddar doesn’t exactly hold together too well either. And tapenade is by nature sundered into small bits. Despite the challenge we successfully managed to assemble them onto the bread, but not without skill.
We then laid under a broad maple tree and admired its wooden tributaries extending into the vespertine sky. They looked like capillaries reaching into the air, like lungs. Trees are giant lungs, if you think about it. Herds of slow moving clouds marched under the stars. A wandering breeze wavered across the grass and caressed the senses. She gently reposed her head on my torso. We were a delightful dalliance.
I always enjoy her. She is an experience like none other. Not something to be had, but to be savored.
I can’t put my finger on it. I tried explaining my feelings for her to a friend. I am not enthralled, not enrapted nor intoxicated with feelings of sensuality or pleasure. It is sheer joy. When I am with her, I am not with someone, per say. She is not an object I seek to possess and keep and coddle and care for. She is independent in herself and needs none of that. Self sustaining. When I am with her I am never satiated nor spent. She is never the object of my experience, but a supplement to my being. Sharp, smart, and soothing. She never says too much. She never appears to feel too much. I am never overwhelmed by the expression of feeling she shares for me. That is not why I am drawn to her. I know she doesn’t need me. I know I don’t need her. When I am not with her, I do not feel as if I am missing something. On the contrary, when we depart, I feel much fuller, much more alive. I am not trapped in the moments of desire I often have for her.
I’ve thought about it, and there isn’t much I don’t like about her. In fact, I don’t even take the time to dwell what those things might be. I know she’ll be gone in a few months time, off to Cincinnati working a new job, living in a new home, exploring a new life. I’ve thought about cutting it off now. I don’t like the idea of being invested in someone just to lose them. But my better judgment tells me that to love would be a great adventure worth the risks and rewards. Tis’ better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, says Tennyson. I’m taking it moment by moment and that’s where I like it. In the moment. Where everything pure and good and wholesome is found.
William Dare 