I have iTunes on random at the moment. I was just looking for general background music. I have several songs in it which make me think of Rick. Like a bad penny, they keep popping up:
"Moment in the Woods" with its line of "why not both instead?" and the half dozen or so lines before and after which speak my heart far too well...
Billy Joel's "Vienna"--perfect song for an overworked europhile; a reminder for a woman who longs to see more of the world....
"Closer to God" ... oh, yes. "Help me...."
And then we get to a song I actually put on a CD for him. And all I want is to see his folder lit up at my inbox, hear his voice, smell the sauce simmering in the pan.... Talk to him--one on one, armed with alcohol; a table between us so that we remember ourselves as we are....
Suddenly, the track switches. I hear the children's song. The one that should bring me "back to life, back to sense, back to child, back to husband." And all I can think of is how I'd like to catch him and do wicked things to his body... let him do wicked things to my body....
And, unlike Nicker, who can't stop thinking scared-girl thoughts when she's with Rick, I would enjoy every moment! None of this "oh, it was OK, but..." foolishness. I would be blissfully scarred for life. Divorced, penniless, but... I know full well Rick would rock my world.
And shatter it.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
a little knowlege being a dangerous thing
I fell in love with a gentlemanly cad this year. Not something married women are supposed to do, but when the safe harbor has been taken out--replaced--by a siege-storm of silence... bad things happen. Good things as well. You may call him Rick.
I do not know if Rick is in love with me. He confesses to fantasizing about me. He listens--the irksome "pay attention" sort of listening--to me. He is warm and affectionate. He trusts me enough to vent to me. He professes that he values my wisdom and input. He calls me his friend, a title not often granted, and I am honored.
Not too long ago, I auditioned for a play. When I read through the scene, I heard his voice saying the lines of the male character. It was quite easy to hear the whole thing--see the whole thing--in my head. Despite being about fifteen years too young, I got the part. I blame Rick--in a very thankful way. The benefit of doing the play, besides being able to use a whole new set of emotional baggage, was getting to meet "my youth," Nicker. Nicker, being my youth, quickly became a good friend--synchronism striking again. I became her confidant and sounding board regarding men, what to do when she graduates, the ex-boyfriend she couldn't get over, auditions, men....
Nicker attends college not far from Rick's home and one weekend I introduced them. Rick indulged me by fixing dinner for the three of us. Naturally, Nicker and Rick developed a small mutual interest, which both discounted due to the age/experience difference. That hurdle has been jumped, as well as others--most notably the hurdle of Nicker being jumped by Rick. Nicker told me, I being her confidant. Rick might have gotten around to mentioning something about it to me... eventually. Rick tends to be closemouthed about such matters.
And while I listen to Nicker's review and confessions and disappointments and fears, I'm stuck in this horrible place. Because while Nicker knows that I've kissed Rick, she doesn't know the extent of my... interactions with Rick. The horrible place is knowing how well Rick and I click on a physical level. If sex is a matter of physics, we function on a geosynchronous molecular level--I know without ever needing to be vertical and naked with him. Wanting to confirm my suspicions, well... over my husband's dead body. Not that my husband knows about that plan--it's a "don't ask, don't tell" sort of thing.
Nicker, for whatever reason, has not found that connection with Rick. And I find myself wanting to shout in shock at Nicker for not finding my friend Rick to be as wonderful as I find him. But in her overview of details, she complained of the candlelight and conversation that she expected to get and didn't. And I find myself wanting to lecture Rick for not treating her with the same consideration he gives me. And I nod and listen and keep my mouth shut because I'm not supposed to have notes for comparison. And I give advice based on my general experience, since the problem at this point is in Nicker's head because she still finds Rick intimidating, dark and mysterious. And I utterly agree that he's those things, but I can't say that because I'm his friend and supposedly know so much about him. And I do, but it seems to be tied into that molecular level.
And it's freezing in this room and all I can think about is going upstairs and getting warm....
I do not know if Rick is in love with me. He confesses to fantasizing about me. He listens--the irksome "pay attention" sort of listening--to me. He is warm and affectionate. He trusts me enough to vent to me. He professes that he values my wisdom and input. He calls me his friend, a title not often granted, and I am honored.
Not too long ago, I auditioned for a play. When I read through the scene, I heard his voice saying the lines of the male character. It was quite easy to hear the whole thing--see the whole thing--in my head. Despite being about fifteen years too young, I got the part. I blame Rick--in a very thankful way. The benefit of doing the play, besides being able to use a whole new set of emotional baggage, was getting to meet "my youth," Nicker. Nicker, being my youth, quickly became a good friend--synchronism striking again. I became her confidant and sounding board regarding men, what to do when she graduates, the ex-boyfriend she couldn't get over, auditions, men....
Nicker attends college not far from Rick's home and one weekend I introduced them. Rick indulged me by fixing dinner for the three of us. Naturally, Nicker and Rick developed a small mutual interest, which both discounted due to the age/experience difference. That hurdle has been jumped, as well as others--most notably the hurdle of Nicker being jumped by Rick. Nicker told me, I being her confidant. Rick might have gotten around to mentioning something about it to me... eventually. Rick tends to be closemouthed about such matters.
And while I listen to Nicker's review and confessions and disappointments and fears, I'm stuck in this horrible place. Because while Nicker knows that I've kissed Rick, she doesn't know the extent of my... interactions with Rick. The horrible place is knowing how well Rick and I click on a physical level. If sex is a matter of physics, we function on a geosynchronous molecular level--I know without ever needing to be vertical and naked with him. Wanting to confirm my suspicions, well... over my husband's dead body. Not that my husband knows about that plan--it's a "don't ask, don't tell" sort of thing.
Nicker, for whatever reason, has not found that connection with Rick. And I find myself wanting to shout in shock at Nicker for not finding my friend Rick to be as wonderful as I find him. But in her overview of details, she complained of the candlelight and conversation that she expected to get and didn't. And I find myself wanting to lecture Rick for not treating her with the same consideration he gives me. And I nod and listen and keep my mouth shut because I'm not supposed to have notes for comparison. And I give advice based on my general experience, since the problem at this point is in Nicker's head because she still finds Rick intimidating, dark and mysterious. And I utterly agree that he's those things, but I can't say that because I'm his friend and supposedly know so much about him. And I do, but it seems to be tied into that molecular level.
And it's freezing in this room and all I can think about is going upstairs and getting warm....
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