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stork daddy
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the first time i met him was at a party at my friend's house. we sat in the backyard and passed a bottle of vodka back and forth. the yard had no fence and he made a joke about us being like free-range chickens. i don't remember too much about it except for the moment i fell in love with him. kisses were intermissions to the words, and then words were intermissions to the kisses. and then we stopped and we talked for what seemed a dense time. he talked about how he wanted to wait until the girl he loved was in front of him before he ever felt love. i suppose it's not such a strange thing for a young person to think. but it was so right to me. i felt like jane austen or something stupid like that. it was because he talked about it so concretely, as if this person was real and was away at sea or fighting a war. it was something chilvarous and feminine and touching because he simply told me because i asked, not because he wanted me to know. there's something about loyalty like he described that seemed so endearing. suddenly the cliche that there is no greater aspiration than being loved truly by another seemed so real to me. to feel love for another person precisely because they won't love you, because they have standards which may encompass and become you. i would of course learn that he was more complicated than that, but i still am haunted by the sweetness of that first moment. it fills me with longing.
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050129
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