Pillow TalkPosted: February 13, 2014
“You gotta stop worrying about growing old, and worry about growing up.” -Dennis Hopper, Elegy
we were lying on
a pallet on the floor bed saturday night. it was that quiet moment after the moment. i was lying on my back looking up at the ceiling and she was on her side facing me. i could feel her eyes. she asked me what i was thinking.
“i was thinking that i’m too old for you. and i’m leaving soon.”
she replied, “yeah, i know. and you’re not to old for me.”
all i could do was gently laugh and mention i was almost 20 years older than she is. again she acknowledged the fact. i asked, “so what do you get out of all this?” and this was a genuine question, which i think surprised her as i tend to be more aloof and less than serious (ask anyone that’s ever met me. they’ll tell you).
there was a pause. and i could tell she was thinking. she told me once before when i was being serious about something that i become intimidating. again, i don’t buy that but i’ve heard it from more than one woman. after a brief moment she said-
“i don’t know. i just like being here. you make me laugh, i have fun when i’m with you. do i wish you were staying- yeah, but i can’t change the fact that you aren’t.”
i thought about what she had said. my overly analytical side had taken over. and i hate when it happens but really can’t control it. and then suddenly it occurred to me- i didn’t have a response. first the first time in a long time, i was speechless at something a women i was involved with said to me. i realized i was actually going to kind of miss her.
after a few moments she asked me again what i was thinking. i told her i wasn’t thinking anything, but instead i was feeling. she asked me what i was feeling and without my eyes leaving the ceiling muttered.
“i think i’m gonna miss you.”
i wasn’t looking at her, but i could feel the smile spreading across her face, her warm glow filling the room. she moved closer to me and laid her head on my chest. she asked, “do you know what that means?” again, without looking at her i said, “no.”
“it means now i have a reason to visit new orleans.”
i laughed lightly and said, “yer just gonna miss some good deep-dickin.”
she laughed softly and gently tapped the top of my head. and for a brief moment i was ben kingsly and she was penelope cruz. i never really compliment women unless i’ve seen them naked. then she asked me what i got out of all this. i could only pause and reply.
“it’s like having a great painting hanging in your bedroom. you’re art.”
she really is a cool girl, and the compliment was genuine. this has been the thing about the navy that’s been such a bitch; i meet a cool girl, and then i leave. i’m pretty used to it now, and it may explain why i tend to be so aloof with women. if you keep them at a distance, it stings less when it’s over.
“when you make love to a woman, you get revenge for all the things that defeated you in life.” -Ben Kingsley
but don’t go feeling sorry for me. i’ve been inside the Sistine Chapel, and wept at it’s beauty. once you experience beauty at that magnitude it tends to numb your perception of “beauty”. i’m 40 year old and about to be retired. and i get to fuck beautiful 20 year old women. life is wine.