We met in a dark room. Don’t worry she’s not that kind of girl. She did most of the talking and I just listened. Popcorn is her thing and butter is mine so we didn’t have any trouble getting to know each other. Something we have in common is that neither of us likes it when she’s interrupted. She’s a storyteller, and nothing ruins narrative like a ringing baby, or a crying cellphone.
It’s hard to describe her beauty, because it changes every day. She’s as dark as Gotham but lighter than the aviator’s morning. She’s a midnight summer’s dream with just a touch of evil. The hills are alive with the sound of her voice and she smells of napalm in the morning.
Yes, the sex is good. She’s got this weird thing where she likes to play music, and then increase the volume during the climax. At first it freaked me out a bit, but now it’s one of those little annoyances you learn to love.
She’s always shoving some new delicacies down my throat. Chinese, Italian or French New Wave. She also loves to read, it’s where she gets her inspiration. Her mother was an author and she tells me it’s where she gets most of her stories. She also loves to move, it gets in the way of her reading. Raging, crouching, finding, singin’, raising shining, diving, training, leaving, saving, chasing. She does it all.
Some say I’m crazy for dating someone that is different before each sunrise or sunset. Being personal with a girl who will never belongs to just one. I’ve never been with someone who is judged by everyone. Everyone I talk to has their own opinion, including me of course.
What bothers me is that she expresses herself to everyone the same way. She hides nothing and loves everyone. Of course, not everyone listens to her the way I do, and even though it’s a lie, sometimes when people ask, I tell them she told me something she didn’t tell the rest.
Enough about her. This is about us and more importantly Me. First, it’s important to understand that I’m usually good at figuring her type out. However, like all relationships, we’ve had our ups and downs. This recent slump has been the deepest and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to crawl my way out.
Sometimes she’s a drug. A pure escape and I'm her junkie. Like most users, I figured I could control myself. It wasn’t that simple. I thought a had a real future with this girl so it was easy to give myself to her, but as the days went by I begin to realize that I was hearing her talk about life more than I was living it. However, she isn’t always the drug I make her out to be. Some days, she’s more than that and it’d be foolish to pretend that all relationships don’t have two sides. She’s a food, not a pleasure, but a necessity. Like any 19 year old, I’m hungry.
Of course if I’d figured out this complicated two piece puzzle then there’d be no reason for writing all this. All I know is that the more I understand her, the more I appreciate her. While I’m lost when I’m with her, I also know I'd be lost without her.
Here's looking at you, kid.