Sunday, November 22, 2009

#12 Innocence

Outside of the house there was a semicircle of large overgrown tea rose bushes off the north east corner. You could see the outer arch of the circle from one of the living room windows. It was a perfect spot for three island teen age girls to spread out their blankets and giggle long summer nights away. They were close enough to the house for safety and far enough for adventure.

There was a small private road that curved near the yard and rolled out towards the paved beach street. It connected the hidden vacation homes in the wooded hillside to the tidelands. One evening the girls talked about the water in the bay. Older girls had told them of the shimmer swim that occured only during a full moon. As their gaze swept the evening sky for the brilliant moon they each agreed to venture down the road to the midnight beach.

The paved street ended onto the beach with dirt roads heading to the left and right fronting the seaside houses. The girls headed to the right and climbed over the logs that divided the sand from the dirt road. They walked down the beach towards a secluded area that had an anchored raft about twenty yards out in the water. They striped their clothes off, piled them on the shoreline and silently ran into the surf together. They dove into the water then surfaced and swam towards the raft. With each stroke their bodies emitted thousands of sparks in the water as if shedding glitter in their paths. This was a glorious shimmer swim. The phosporous in the water was shinning like burning silvery green embers everywhere the girls motioned.

They climbed onto the raft and sat on the edge dangling their legs in the water, enchanted by their sparkling feet unconcerned about their nakedness. A sudden movement on the beach caught their attention as five summer house boys were quickly decending on their pile of clothes at the edge of the water. The girls silently slid into the water and minimally paddled to the back side of the raft, quietly peering around the corner at the activity on shore. Three of the boys stood for a moment looking out beyond them then turned around heading back from where they came. The remaining two boys stood a moment, then in a flash shed their own clothes and splashed into the water diving under as soon as they could.

The girls heard their smooth strokes as they neared them. The boys came up to the raft and grabbed the front edge while the girls were hanging on the back edge. Introductions were made. Realizations that the rafting group members were not total strangers but passing flirtations between island girls and summer boys made it easier for the boys to drift closer to the girls. Hearing their approach, the girls let go of the raft and silently floated away. The boys let go and stroked towards them, their underwater bodies shimmering in the moonlit water. Facinated by the glow, the girls broke out into gestures that would highlight their own bodies just out of reach of the boys.

They swam danced in the shimmering, glittering water. Never touching but glowing off of each other, they dove under and parted the water with their strokes - shooting off sparks in their wakes. One by one peaceful exhaustion overtook them. Each on their own swam towards the beach, lifting themselves out of the water to shine no more. Dressing in the moonlight, the island girls and summer boys shyly smiled goodby and went home.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

#11 Touched

He grabbed her so fast that his partner sat stunned at how quickly this large man had moved. Pulling the car over onto the shoulder of the road, he stopped abruptly and ordered his friend to release her at once.

The three of them were returning home from a meeting. She sat in the back seat and the two men sat in the front. They were going over the evening’s events, recalling conversations with each detailing their experiences. As she spoke she reached out and touched the large man ahead of her on the shoulder as an emphasis to her point of the conversation.

Now standing outside of the car, he began pacing back and forth as he tried to find the words to explain his actions to his partner.

“Look at me.” he spoke softly. His partner did not hear him and asked him to repeat himself. “Look at me!” he screamed while gesturing to his face.

She quietly rolled down her window while looking straight ahead instead of looking out at the men.

“There have only been two women in my life who have ever touched me. One was my mother and I married the other woman because I didn’t think anyone else would ever touch me.”

“All night long," he said, glancing at the car, "Whenever she talked to me, she would touch me.”

His partner looked up at him and calmly said, “Guy, she is really short and you are really tall. How else could she get your attention?”

”I was thinking that too. But just now, in the car, she touched me again. So I thought it meant she wanted me.”

“Maybe she is Italian. You know how they talk with their hands.”

He turned and kneeled down at her window.

“Are you Italian?”

“Could be.” she said as she sat on her hands.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

#10 Elevators

On television, some really romantic moments happen in elevators. Mostly to doctors and lawyers who probably constitute the largest group of elevator professionals.

The most unique encounter I ever had in an elevator occurred in downtown Houston. I had delivered some documents to a law office and was waiting to board an elevator to go back down. When the door opened there was a very happy fellow with a cigar in his mouth.

I had to comment on his state of bliss. He handed me a cigar and said he was a new poppa. I congratulated him and asked about his baby’s statistics. He grinned and told me he had actually just donated a baby elephant to the zoo and he was not too sure how much he weighed!

At the Westin Galleria Hotel in Houston I once rode in an elevator with Henry Kissinger. There had recently been some publicity about his wife and I asked him if she had come to Houston with him. He thanked me for inquiring and stated that she had not come on the trip with him this time.

One week later I was on a trip to New York City with my family. We entered the elevator of the World Trade Center to go to the observation deck. When I turned around there was Mr. Kissinger again and this time he was with his wife Nancy. He remembered me and introduced me to his wife telling her I had inquired after her in Houston. He teased me about following him.

I still have the World Trade Center tickets. This is a bittersweet memory.

#9 Dessert

He was in advertising. We met at a meeting of "Save (something)". I don't remember now what it was but it attracted the young professional crowd. I was wearing one of those breakaway business suits. The kind that covered everything but the jacket and skirt could fall off with the huffing and puffing of any near-by wolf.

He called me the next day and made arrangements for dinner the upcoming weekend.
I met him at his condo located in an upscale neighborhood near the Medical Center. Instead of going out to dinner he decided to cook in as his roomate was out of town for the weekend.

His place was very beautifully furnished. He gave me a quick tour showing me his bedroom last. Here he had arranged wishfully lit candles around the silk pillow filled bed.

In the kitchen, he went about organizing the meal. He opened a bottle of wine and poured me a glass. Instead of handing me the glass, he put it on the counter and turned to me. With one quick action he lifted me onto the counter saying that since I was dessert I needed to sit patiently until he could prep me. He gave me a quick preview kiss and handed me my glass of wine.

When he was done preparing dinner he set it on the table. He came and lifted me off of the counter. Taking me by the hand he led me to the...bathroom! Directing me to take off my clothes and put on the silk robe hanging on the back of the door for me. He stepped into his room and also came out in a silk robe. For this was not only dinner, it was an oriental themed dinner.

We sat down to eat. He was at the end of the dining room table and I was to his right. The candles, sake, dinner and possibility of dessert. It was very romantic.

The doorbell rang followed by loud pounding. Someone was very desperate to get in. He went to answer the door and returned to the dining room with a disheveled man carrying a gym bag. Introductions were made. It was my date's best friend. He had been kicked out of his house by his wife for some (he said unknown) reason and he was looking for a place to crash.

Seeing dinner on the table, he grabbed the chair opposite of me and sat down. My date sat down in his chair mouthing the words "I'm sorry" to me. The conversation was dominated by the intruder who somehow managed to devour food while ranting. At one point he stopped as if he was seeing his plate for the first time. Looking at my date he asked, "What's for dessert?". At this point I burst out laughing and kicked my date under the table - daring him to answer.

When dinner was over it finally dawned on the guest that his friend and I were wearing robes and he excused himself from the table. Grabbing his gym bag he headed down the hall and shut the door to the room with the beckoning candles.

I turned to the ad man as he threw his hands up in dispair. Laughing, I headed to the bathroom to get dressed. Dessert would have to wait for another day.

#8 Kissed

There are all kinds of kisses between men and women. Hollywood has influenced many young men about kissing. If you watch classic movies you will find most kissers have a very sterile technique. Two mouths meeting, no movement, no head squirming trying to dig deeper into the kiss.

I had this conversation in a L. A. jewelry store with a doctor recently returned from a trip to Egypt. This fellow romantic was bemoaning the lack of real kissing in the movies. I spoke up about the kissing scene in “Juan in a Million”. It was believable and a definite point of comparison. Even the animator of “Swan Princess” got it right. I saw the pre-release pencil sketch version of the kiss and it was definitely done from a perspective of experience.

I asked her if she was a fan of Jimmy Stewart movies. He is, in my opinion, one of the best screen kissers. I quite imagine any actress who was kissed by him went home still wearing the memory of that kiss long after the scene was finished.

The kiss of my life occurred one evening after a rendezvous on an expertly manicured baseball field. The grass was soft and still warm from the afternoon sun. He had pulled me to my feet and walked me to the parking lot hand in hand. It was the end of summer and the end of our opportunities to be together.

When we reached my car he spun me around and grabbed my face towards him, then pulling my arms around him he reached down and enveloped me in his arms to get me closer to him. He kissed me hard and long then broke away briefly looking in my eyes while stroking away my hair. Then he changed direction and kissed me again. This time my whole body shook. I started to cry as his kiss gripped my heart.

His kiss to me was a message of hope for the future. My kiss to him was a silent good-by.

The next day, unknown to him, I moved 2,100 miles away.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

#7 Scanties

With all of the topics in the world available to us, the conversation turned to my missing black lace panties.

He stated, with all the complete innocence a grown man could muster, that his barely ex girlfriend never owned any lingerie.

His point was not that she was deprived of silky, fine satin and lace underwear but that he felt they were not really a necessity - just a roadblock to the treasure.

Hadn’t he grown up in the culture of Playboy – matching bras and panties on every woman?

I told him that I knew lots of ladies who systematically matched their scanties in the hopes of admiring reviews from their ravishers.

Men who really shop for their wives, girlfriends and/or lovers buy two things – scanties and perfume. The reasoning is that when their women are not wearing one they are wearing the other. A reminder of him.

Then came the big question – Did I match?

Even though I was wearing just jeans and a sweater, why did I feel compelled to match if he was not going to get to see them?

Because I love scanties.

Beautiful ribbons of fabric on my body belying the impersonal impressions of the outer garments draped over me.

#6 Mathematics

In abstention classes for young adults, one of the presentations is a contrast study between Love and Lust with Lust being disguised in the euphemism of Infatuation.

The five purported Languages of Love are: Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, Gifts, Physical Touch, and Acts of Service. This Language package is offered to us in a number of ways.

This is how I add it all up:

The deluxe set of all five languages is the Spiritual Set. When you share all five languages with another person, this is the basis of a “Soul Mates” coupling. When you have this completed feeling with one another - a relationship or marriage can be sustained through eternity.

Combinations of three or four languages make for hearty relationships that can withstand hardships and usually the tests of time because of shared (overlapping) languages between partners.

Singular and doubled languages are a bit more trying as these can leave a person filling in the language barrier with fantasy and folly. Not the basis for long term relationships.

For example: If you are a Quality Time type who needs /wants to spend every waking moment with your partner but they do not share that language then it can be smothering. If your language is Gifts and you are a gourmet chef but your partner is an Acts of Service vegetarian then this also doesn’t work in the long run.

When they say you can change someone – what is really meant is that you can force them to use a language they cannot speak. You can’t – They won’t.

We are all amazed when the bad boy with all the notches finds love and settles in or the town flirt is finally married. We state with authority that they have changed their ways.
They have not changed their ways.

Add it up. Figure it out.

They have found someone who speaks their language.