Posted by Ms_Tytania on Mon 11 Jan 10, 8:12 PM to Ms_Tytania's blog.
We met over Christmas, all the waifs and strays that now live in other cities, in other countries, in a larger world than our hometown. Sonia was the stunning, sharp, talented one in the gang, with that boyfriend she'd been with since they were sixteen and who now was a doctor. At 5' 10”, a willowy blonde with a taste for the sharp dress sense of the Mods, she had the body of a professional models, and without the need for surgery, dieting or sacrifice. In fact, she can drink anyone I know under the table. This was going to be one of those evenings. We drank and caught up and then she revealed to me one of life's great mysteries that I'd pondered on an off when I thought of her, but never had the chance to ask: why at 29, shed' dumped her one and only boyfriend, her fiancée, the man she'd been all of her young adult life; the handsome, successful young doctor she was going to marry, to start a new life in Barcelona.
“It was four years ago, after I attended a gay friend's wedding. They got married on a beautiful beach at sunset, and I've never seen two people more in love. It was when they read their vows, that they touched us with their candid, simple explanation of why they loved each other so much. It was an epiphany for me. My friend's groom read, almost choking with emotion, something about the way their toes touched under the duvet in the morning, ever so slightly, and how the electricity in little details like that was for him Love Made Flesh. Tender, mundane details that spoke in a way that the big deeds in life couldn't match:.
Sonia hadn't had enough to drink before the ceremony and was reflective. When was the last time she had felt, in her own relationship, that electricity of the small, but significant details? When did her and his toes touch thus under the duvet? Suddenly, her heart sunk with the realization that she wasn't going to experience that again, that she wasn't going to be seized by the humbling, godlike revelation of Love unveiled, naked, undisputed. So she left her one and only boyfriend a few weeks later, before it was too late. It already felt too late she thought, but she was wrong.
We got very pissed that night, a few days before Christmas. That night in town melts and dissolves in a drunken stupor, as these ritual gatherings do, but Sonia's story survived the carnage. In the morning, in that state of amplified perception that only a good hangover can bring you, I shared Sonia's epiphany, reverberating in all its loud, deafening clarity in the wobbly chamber of my brain: when was the last time I felt anything like that? That's the missing cog, what sorts the chaff from the grain.
The Sex Fairy has always been generous, it would be unkind of me to moan to her. There is play in my life, and kink and sex; there are men and fuck friends to choose and pick, and even the occasional great lovers who can read your body like a book, yet are incapable, or unwilling, to go below the skin surface, to give you or to accept that electricity. They service you, they bring a glow to your weekend after a fortnight of work and duty; they have their function and thank god for them! Life would be so dull without these casual accomplices to explore the joys of the flesh with. On top of that, some things don't just happen overnight. I know full well that this uncanny symbiosis needs time to bloom. But the question is still there, another one for the test: when was the last time I felt my toes and their toes touching in bed, and felt my heart skipping a beat? Uhmmm... I think it was two years, seven months, three weeks and approximately twelve and a half hours ago, to be precise.
Edited Mon 11 Jan 10, 10:04 PM by Ms_Tytania
