Valentine’s Day Love
Christie told me that she fell in love with Barry Edgar about four years ago. He didn’t know that she’d fallen in love with him, and understandably so: she didn’t tell him and she didn’t change anything about the way she treated him.
Barry Edgar was a waiter who once travelled to Europe. He also once travelled to India. He also once travelled to Beijing, to Philippines, to Peru. Barry was shorter than the average guy and he had hairy shoulders, and his deodorant had a strong, musky smell. There was nothing really special about Barry, but then there was really nothing that special about Christie, so she thought it fitting that they were destined to be together.
To Christie, falling in love was more than just a childish feeling of falling in love. She tried her best not to think of “falling in love” as something that was merely a product of evolution, of the movies, of pop songs, of seeing her parents, of hearing her friends. Christie wanted to fall in love in a completely unique way, in a way that was individual to her. But how could she do this when so much of her was a product of her environment? How much of her “falling in love” truly came from her heart?
Picturing herself as a bouquet of flowers, Christie spun in dramatic circles with the hope of shaking off any unruly untruths in her life. She meditated, she shed her skin, she consumed, she prayed, she sold, she gave up, she quit, she ran, she ignored — she dedicated an entire year to only telling the truth, of being completely honest with herself and shedding all insecurities, all bonds and all connections, even her physical connection with Barry. Feeling like a Buddhist, she detached herself from everything, and in her pursuit of complete honesty she found nothing but love. Not only love for Barry, but love for herself, and of the world, and of God.
About four years ago I told this girl I loved her because of the way she said the word “cunt”. This girl had a great smile and a great body and she rarely shaved her pubic hairs and she was taken by someone else. “I’m addicted, Dean,” she texted me, and I texted back, “To what???” and she replied with, “to everything there ever was.” And at one in the morning, the morning after Valentine’s, I picked her up, and we drove to McDonald’s and bought nuggets and we didn’t say much and I tried to kiss her in the parking lot, and she said, “Not until we take some,” and I said, “Some what???” and she replied with, “take some of everything that ever was.” And around noon we drove to some crowded beach at the Gold Coast and we ran into the sea.
Read the original post