2004-07-14
All right, look. I've started the story of this entry a thousand times because I HAVE to write it, as much as I generally dislike exhibition in online diaries. But I CAN write this story because she doesn't even know that this diary exists! And that's like putting a big bowl of money in front of me and saying, "Now Andy, I'll be back in five minutes. ::wags finger:: Don't you take any of this money that I'm planning on donating to the Kerry campaign and squander it all on Bush/Cheney bumper stickers to plaster all over your friends' cars..." Really, how does one contain oneself?I wish I could be more eloquent in elaborating about our encounter, but... I can't do it. Like, my mind's a little door and all of these ideas and thoughts are scrambling to get out of the little door and onto the page, but there's so many of them that they just bottleneck at the pass. I knew I shouldn't have put in that new little door when I woke up one morning and decided to be %40 less sentimental.
But damn her, she tapped into that pesky remaining 60%. The part that surfaces everytime some greatly affecting event occurs and knaws at me until I satiate its hunger with purple prose. The best I can do is a bulleted list of highlights. Hopefully something worthy will emerge. Like to hear it, here it go.
* Her belt. Loud, yet tasteful. Not many girls could pull it off.
* The aversion to wine that lasted about... ten minutes.
* Her graciousness at not mocking my MP3 collection.
* Her ability to make even the most neutral rhetoric drip with childishly suggestive connotations.
* Little noises.
* She talked most of the time, I listened most of the time. Perfectly uncomplicated.
* When we fell asleep, I warned her that I'd probably turn over in the middle of the night and wake up with my back to her. When we woke up a few hours later, we were in EXACTLY the same position that we fell asleep in. I can't remember the last time that that happened. She woke up, looked at me and smiled and lightning shot through my veins, but I don't think she felt it. If she picked up on it, I'm a little embarrassed, but I secretly hope that she did.
* She sat up at 6 AM to drink a glass of water. I was lying behind her. The light from my window was streaming in and cast a shadow over her bare back and I swear to the good Lord up in heaven above that it was one of the hottest things I've ever seen in my life. Remember what I said in my joy of making out entry about getting the all access backstage pass to the unknown parts of the female body? I've concluded that the bare back is the rock star's dressing room. You can stay up blindly exploring each other all night, but when the sun comes up... forget it. Everything is right with the world. And do you know what the best part is? She has no idea how remarkable it all is. She got a drink of water, and I got a blast of euphoric clarity.
Yes, I hope I see her again. Yes, I hope she wants to see me again. Yes, it was spontaneous. Yes, it was uncharacteristic of both of us. Yes, we had had the same things on our mind. Yes, I think she's fantastic. Yes, I woke up a very happy man. Yes, it was right.
But no, I'm pretty sure that she doesn't know how much it meant to me.
-Andy