One evening recently I stumbled upon the last thirty minutes of a silly little romantic comedy called- “How Do You Know.” As I watched the two main characters wrestling to come to terms with their final heartwarming revelations about each other, this little puff of a story gusted into the caverns of my brain, rolled through the tunnels of my arms and out of the pathways in my fingers to land here…on this page.
The story is odd yet enticing, in my humble opinion of course. The writing style might not suit everyone, but I hope you'll be entertained.
While the movie characters struggled with the question “how do you know who is right for you," it occurred to me that more often than not, we know exactly, deep down, in the core of our guts, when someone has that little “something” that makes them even temporarily, “the one.”
Whether he or she is the one for now, or for a lifetime, the joy and pleasure, uncertainty and fear, all come to play when deciding whether or not to act upon that information. So the real question, to me, becomes now that you know he or she is worth putting more time and effort into- What are you going to do about it?
Happiness, whether for a single day, or for fifty glorious years is a blessing, a gift. Aren’t we cheating ourselves and all those who would smile at seeing “the ones” together, when we let fear, or busy schedules, or society, or family, or friends, or __________________________you fill in the blank, deter us from grabbing that lovely morsel of a person up- if we don’t do SOMEthing to grab that little piece of happiness and hold on to it tightly, for as long as we can?
I’ve decided that for myself, I don’t want to cheat the universe, or me, of knowing the blessing of a trusting, loyal companionship with someone who truly “knows/gets me” and likes me anyway J If the universe ever chooses to reveal that unique entity to me, I want to be open to explore the possibilities and enjoy the ride for however long that person may be destined to be a part of my life.
Here’s wishing that your life experiences lead you to discover which person and what path is right for you, whether it be for a lifetime, a reason, or a season.
Oh and one more note, this story is as much about seduction, as it is finally realizing a dream, because let’s face it, our dreams are perhaps the most seductive things we possess.
Ok, on to the story- Hit the play button on the video screen for a little mood music to go with the tale. I love a romantic story, coupled with a kick ass song, don't you?
Hunky body bombarding the room. Always the bull in a china shop, him. He arrives invited of course, but as usual, late. Intuitive grey eyes zigzag across the span of the darkened room , until he sees her.
What he spies
with his little eyes
is the newly realized
object of his desire.
Her back to him, she knows full well of his entrance. Exuding a cool attitude of “no worries,” she none the less, now wrestles to avoid being smothered by her own attempts to maintain steady, controlled in and ex-halation.
Riding on awakening tides, her greeting sails across the room to playfully pounce upon his eardrums-
“Hey you….Come on in. I thought you’d never get here, ole pokey puppy. You’re late!”
Her smile is sweet, like cotton candy. Lopsided and a bit cocky, it launches from her lips to greet and validate the plan of action that has been percolating in his head for just how long, he can’t even remember. His thoughts are like seeds having been planted in Styrofoam picnic cups. Shoots growing tentatively, gingerly moving toward the soil’s surface, waiting until just the right time to be born, and nurtured.
His plan involves risk, but that’s ok. After all, he’s not there to play games. Tricks are for kids, which is why he left his Underoos at home. Came dressed in his Calvin Kleins ready to claim his portion of more than Jujubes and iced cold soda pop.
In the past few weeks, he’s come to realize the profundity of the old adage- “sometimes the very thing you adamantly seek is, and always has been, right in front of your face.”
Something like that anyway.
Snippets of Cosmopolitan magazine articles and romance novel images wading in her eyes trying to disguise…what?
Her breath catches, then accelerates. Even from across the room, he smells good; like sea spray and muscle. Like hairy chests and evergreen pine.
“Glad you could make it though,” she finishes with a healthy dose of playful sarcasm.
A force set in motion before it could be contained, the lowering of her twinkling hazel eyes cannot grab the moonbeam jettisoning through the dusky, TV blue haze. Unintentionally, yet pointedly it heat seeks in his direction.
Over a year of sharing secrets and laughs, tall tales and gaffs, beers and pork rinds. Using safety nets woven with the vibes of one another, both slowly worked to abolish the lies of those who were not always so kind. Walking on common ground they’d been traversing across burning sands that fueled,
versus incinerated, “more,”
to end up- “here….”
…in her living room, on a Saturday night, once again. Each preparing, in their own way, to engage in the usual movie night banter. Just easy, good times shared between two people who enjoy each other’s company.
This is one of many such evenings conducted over the past six months, unintentionally increasing in frequency, and although neither would admit it, also growing in intensity. It’s by far easier to focus on the parts of this shared puzzle- the things they can see and touch, versus the hidden attractions undeniably building inside.
DVD movie-check. Blu-ray version- check. Surround sound turned down, them aligned together among the sofa pillows smelling the potent aroma of promise- sublime.
Unborn, yet fully gestated scripts looping through two separate brains pregnant with opportunities, cautiously entertaining potentialities- spurred on by formerly unrecognized, yet to be conceptualized, aphrodisiacs.
He asserts access to his usual spot on the sofa next to her. The first “brush” spawns static electricity. *Pop!* His thigh brushing her thigh. Then again while passing him the remote, *Pop!* her hand brushing his hand. Both slight encounters spawn visions of incendiary temptations. Someone, maybe both, think-
“Mmmmm touch me…”
The movie ensues- a silly comedy rife with adolescent rough housing and potty mouthed hilarity. Senses at attention not for the celluloid however, but the humanoid. It’s hard to maintain and be entertained under feelings yearning so persistently to be free. Each brushing the other innocently, or so it would seem. Two parts of a metronome ticking quietly, repeatedly, incessantly.
A sideways glance- one to the other,
”…have you ever…”
balancing on the tip of awareness,
dancing on the tongue’s apogee,
Instead of broaching the unspoken, out tumbles the obvious, “You want a soda and some popcorn?” She pops up like a hot oil bathed kernel. Missile projected towards the kitchen she is gone before he can even reply.
The reality? Too much physical proximity, creating too much internal turbidity. She darts toward her only visible means of escape-
to catch her breath
to gather her wits
to rein in her thoughts
to clear her head.
Hovering over the microwave, trying to coax Orville Redenbacher’s corn to bloom with the increasing heat inside the little oven, she smiles again, only not so innocently this time. Delicious fear twirls over her making roller coaster waves tumble in her belly. Visions of a hungry beast bring a tinge of pink to her cheeks. She sucks the salt off the base of her little finger.
As if on cue, the “beast” strides into the kitchen moving in close, so very close behind her.
Her pulse thump, thump, thumping out of control. Rapidly beating bird wings pounding against the ivory ribs of its cage. A feeling of forced confinement, even though she stands freely in the spacious expanse of her own kitchen surrounded by the homey aromas of popcorn and chocolate chip cookies. Turbulence swells louder and louder in her brain building to a crescendo inside her head…
‘Let me out!!!’
Caged beast or sequestered prey? She can’t tell where his desire begins, or hers ends. Maybe they both exist together,
at this moment,
in this kitchen.
Maybe they’ve always existed, it’s just that the cages are more flimsy now.
She turns and almost drops the soda in her hand. He is right there in front of her, grinning. Near enough to brush her skin with his touch…his breath near enough to graze her face.
“Whoa Dude! You almost made me drop this soda!”
A look not quite frail, actually somewhat seductive. Her feelings, while not unwanted, still cause her the slightest bit of duress. Vulnerability always does. She, so calm and in control, not used to being the hunted or known. More comfortable being elusive. There is safety in the cloak, under the hood.
But with his hood thrown back and his chest exposed, he inwardly congratulates himself that his brazenness appears to throw her off kilter. It makes her parted lips more inviting. The slope of her neck more kissable. In his dreams he’s been standing in this spot a million times, stopping just short of finally kissing her full on, with no hesitation or regrets.
This is truly the last thing she expected to happen tonight- to find herself wedged between him and the kitchen sink. For the first time since they met, she feels he is somehow inviting her to come closer, not to his physicality, but to his fragile emotionality.
“You avoiding being near me girl?”
“ You’re so silly, why would I do that?” Discomfort evident, even if cloaked in giggles.
He leans in ever so slightly to inhale her scent. It’s warm and sensual like amber colored sunsets and wildflowers growing along a path illumined by white hot stars. She closes her eyes for an instant. She leans back, but there is nowhere to go. He has her compressed between the cabinet and his stocky frame.
“Not an altogether unpleasant place to be,’ she thinks almost absent mindedly.
But why now? Why tonight? In all the time they’d known each other he had never even pretended to flirt with her, nor she with him. Now he seemed ready to engulf her like a playful cloud momentarily envelops the light of a sunny day.
She couldn’t lie, plenty of times she’d meditated on moments like this; wondering how she’d react. What would she say if he suddenly shed his coat of armor, and dared her to remove hers? A crazy game of truth or dare. Truth was…did she dare?
“What are you doing?” she asks quietly. Her eyes so intensely focused on his, he feels his heart skipping beats behind the confines of his shirt.
“What do you want me to do?” he puts one arm up bringing his hand to rest by her head on the cabinet behind her. His fingers brushing her hair as they move. More compression, definitely more turbulence, his chest barely missing brushing hers.
“I want you to tell me what kind of pop you want with this popcorn,” saucy yet cute coming from her.
“Ha ha,” he grins rakishly. “What if I don’t want soda pop?” a smile oozing confidence along with a strong sense of purpose.
With one deft movement she ducks under his arm and slips from his grasp, heading back to the fridge.
“You’re funny,” she counters. “I have your favorite beer, so hows about that?”
“You gonna have one too?” Amusement tickling the corners of his mouth.
“You trying to get me drunk? You know your brand of beer hits me like a brick, lite weight that I am.” she says mischievously.
“Naw, never that,” a totally disarming smile. “Come to think of it, no beer for me. I want to try something new tonight. How about you?”
They look at each other simply, honestly. Hazel and grey gazes mixing to create gold.
Thoughts race, then boomerang back to where they started. Isn’t that where all dreams go, out into the universe, eventually floating back again to their rightful owners?
Standing in the middle of her apartment,
on a Saturday night,
with a DVD playing on the TV
they converse silently-
“I am a willing canvas- paint me.”
“I am the restless waves of the ocean- roll with me.”
“I am a wild expanse of forest not accessible to most- explore me.”
“I am the highest mountain peak- climb me.”
“I am a wild lioness waiting for someone brave enough to approach- tame me.”
And with that he approaches.
leaning in one final time,
for one final brush…
He brushes his lips gently across hers.
Permissions finally granted, they burst into flame.
Mistral Wind blowing thru until next time...
TDM (Copyright © 11-2011)