by the time i was supposed to meet Glen to see the Patrice Leconte film, i was experiencing a slight buzz.

i'd had some beers at the house and i went through it pretty fast. i'm not a tiny girl but alcohol always hits me hard.

to make things worse, i was late and Glen hates when people are late. when he saw my state, he rolled his eyes. i told him to keep it to himself and consoled him by paying for his ticket. it was worth the four bucks to shut him up.

though it's one of dobbs' favorite movies and he owns it on video, i'd only ever seen The Hairdresser's Husband once. and to be honest, i'd never understood why it meant so much to him. this was, he said, because of my lack of experience with love. "not with sex or being loved, but loving." i remember thinking to myself 'whatever, grandpa' (he was 34*), almost exactly a decade older than me. but i daren't say it aloud.

a long while ago, back before i'd met him in person, he'd Shagged this to Cynthia:

so the movie has ended and it always makes me feel so emotionally drained. i first saw it 10 years ago in the theatre, sort of at a time when i think i was reinventing myself. it was the summer before i went to York and i really only had one love, which was film. and i'd only been with one girl at that point and i really didn't know much about love or women or life or anything like that. and the film just sort of took me in and held me so tight--in a way i cannot really explain. it seems ridiculous writing this now cause it is such a simple little film with very little story and if you ever see it, i know you won't understand the degree of my fondness for it, even though i think you'll quite like it.

i think the film was very crucial in my understanding of romance--at least idealistic romance. i don't know whether i believed it prior to seeing the film or took it from the film, but the notion that love is simple and present and beautiful and not all those other things that people make it out to be: complex and full of pain and worry.

i watch that movie and i want to lay down with you and kiss you slowly head to toe and know that you're not going anywhere. reminds me of a Lou Reed song: "i love you... at least for now." i'm sure some might find that line disturbing and vile. to me it is as truthful as anything i could ever feel. blunt, beautiful honesty.

i'm not sure why i'm writing this letter. perhaps because i really do wish you were here with me and that we had that comfort between us. that ability to not be shy, not be worried, and not think about tomorrow.

me? i don't mind the transience of love as long as it comes with the confidence of romance. the complete trust of "right now". the film assures me that love is a worthy goal and not something parenthetical to the rest of living. i'm happy knowing that even if i never write a great novel, make a great film, or cook the perfect meal... that i have been, can be, and will again place my lips on a breast as no one else can, lose my tongue in a navel that's never been touched just oh so right before, and see her smile as confirmation of what we've just felt. success: two people blocking out the world and existing to please, and be pleased, by the other. mentally, physically, emotionally, intellectually.

what about you? what are you thinking about right now? why do i sometimes feel you're holding back when we're together? whether you're holding back a kiss, an embrace, or a goodbye, i cannot tell. but i would love if you'd let it out, whatever it is. don't be unfair to yourself 'cause you're caught up in being fair to me. hell, i don't know if i'm making any sense to you as i can't really explain what i feel. it's your own fault though, for inviting a babbler into your life.

i hope you're having a wonderful day.

i hope i've danced through your mind once or twice.

especially when you weren't expecting me.

you're asleep on the bed behind me right now. i'm gonna lie down beside you and nap, my right arm thrown over your waist. (i won't apologize for having a slut for an imagination.)

d.

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