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judecorpI'm not really one for romance, or that sweet sappiness that seems to permeate relationships. I don't know why exactly that is, but I do know that it's almost always been like that for me. For me, traditional romantic things (flowers, say, or picnics) don't affect me, or I don't like them. Yes, I like flowers. But in the back of my mind, I'm sad because they're dead - someone killed them in order to send them to me. I don't know. I'd rather do nice things for people all of the time than to do certain prescribed things on specific days or to signify specific events.
But last night I was listening to some slow music. It was late, and the volume was low because I am a courteous neighbor-type. The urge, out of nowhere, came over me with phenomenal might. It was very strange.
At that moment, with the music washing over me, I imagined Jennifer and me in the living room area of my apartment, late at night, lights out, candles lighting the room. I imagined the current soft music playing, and I saw us dancing together on my dingy living room carpet. As a vision, it was strong - more like a need or a wish than a fancy of my imagination.
I was stuck to my couch (davenport, Reba?) with the power of it, hands tightly clutching one of the pillows there. My fingers gnarled into the cheap material of the bargain basement pillow and there was this impressive ache belying everything. Had I magic powers, I'd have snapped my fingers and made the moment reality, because at that very second, it was all-consuming.
All I could do was email her about it, and lie awake in my bed wondering what, exactly, brought that on. I've never so much as even /considered/ something so... saptastic. So mainstream love movie. So cliche.
She returns to civilization from camp today. The summer passed so quickly, yet the time without contact with her was agonizingly slow. Like jumbo shrimp, or military intelligence - a contradiction in terms, perhaps, but true. It will be weird (but in a good way!) to actually be able to call her and know that it will be minutes, hours until she gets the message, rather than days, or to be able to hang up the phone knowing it won't be a week or more before talking again.
Perhaps her impending return has my mind spinning. I know that if she were here in my apartment, I would be too embarrassed and squicked by sappiness to dance in my living room. There's safety in distance, yes?
But last night I was listening to some slow music. It was late, and the volume was low because I am a courteous neighbor-type. The urge, out of nowhere, came over me with phenomenal might. It was very strange.
At that moment, with the music washing over me, I imagined Jennifer and me in the living room area of my apartment, late at night, lights out, candles lighting the room. I imagined the current soft music playing, and I saw us dancing together on my dingy living room carpet. As a vision, it was strong - more like a need or a wish than a fancy of my imagination.
I was stuck to my couch (davenport, Reba?) with the power of it, hands tightly clutching one of the pillows there. My fingers gnarled into the cheap material of the bargain basement pillow and there was this impressive ache belying everything. Had I magic powers, I'd have snapped my fingers and made the moment reality, because at that very second, it was all-consuming.
All I could do was email her about it, and lie awake in my bed wondering what, exactly, brought that on. I've never so much as even /considered/ something so... saptastic. So mainstream love movie. So cliche.
She returns to civilization from camp today. The summer passed so quickly, yet the time without contact with her was agonizingly slow. Like jumbo shrimp, or military intelligence - a contradiction in terms, perhaps, but true. It will be weird (but in a good way!) to actually be able to call her and know that it will be minutes, hours until she gets the message, rather than days, or to be able to hang up the phone knowing it won't be a week or more before talking again.
Perhaps her impending return has my mind spinning. I know that if she were here in my apartment, I would be too embarrassed and squicked by sappiness to dance in my living room. There's safety in distance, yes?
