When you first fall head over stilettos, every experience with your new beau produces an adrenaline rush or gush, in my case. No doubt, after the first few months my punch drunk love buzz wears off and is inevitably replaced with a sobering routine. Whether it's maturity, the guy, or the astrological influences is yet to be determined. I am happy to report there is nothing sobering about routine with the right man, of course.
My Man Friend and I were up to our usual antics last night, bickering and giggling over raw fish, sticky rice and stiff cocktails at one our of favorite local haunts. Everything was going according to plan, or routine, until it hit me. Man Friend and I were deep in debate over his fabulous empanada recipe and who'd be the sous chef this weekend. He was threatening me with the job of garlic mincing and I was fighting him tooth and french manicured nail. To preface this, I once mistook a meat cleaver for a garlic mincer, so clearly, I should not have access to sharp objects. Somewhere before the point he agreed to stop bossing me around in the kitchen or after I told him I'd pull a "Rhianna" on his ass if he didn't slow his role, I realized how I much I adored this man.
Have you ever seen a movie where the movement is in slow motion and the entire shot is out of focus except for the character's face? I was mesmerized by the smile of his eyes. Before I knew it the slow motion reverted to a fast forward and I could see my life with this smart, funny, handsome man. Never before have I felt secure enough to visualize a real future, a family with another person. Now I understand the cliche', "When you know, you know".
You've heard the phrase "I'm going to my safe place"....well my "safe place" is not any "place" in particular and there are no directions or maps to follow. According to http://www.about.com/, a safe place, "...gives you warm fuzzies...put yourself in this picture and imagine what you would hear, smell, see, feel....do this as often as possible...".
My "safe place" is a pretty exclusive restaurant with reservations for two. I hear his smile, I smell his sarcasm, I see his heart and I feel his scruff...I give it five stars...he's delicious...
Pieces of Me, Pieces of Havana - *M*id 90s, Havana. With a little help from Allen Ginsberg *Howl * *(Cuban cover version of Allen Ginsberg’s original poem, with percussion, double bass, ...
1 week ago