Mi dispiace

"Can I make a request?"

"Sure...."

"Can you wear nice shoes? A skirt would be nice, but can you wear nice shoes?"

What?! My comfy sneakers and earth shoes aren't so appealing? Those birkenstocks I wore on Saturday didn't turn him on? I know where it's coming from. He's trying to say "I like you to look sexy... and you mostly do... but you're missing a spot" I know I've worn rather overly comfortable shoes each time I've been near him - mostly because those are the shoes that won't make me too tall. I don't like to feel big. Well, if he wants to see what happens when I turn on the power of tower... god help him. But I'm no fashion maven and suddenly every pair of shoes in my closet falls into question. Are you a 'nice' shoe? I have one pair of Italian leather boots...maybe those...? What will go with those? what skirt? Darn it! It's never just about the shoes!

It says something when the first words you make the attempt to learn in your new lover's native language are "I'm sorry". Mi dispiace. Even worse that I figure how to get the pronunciation right from a Madonna song.

The fun might wear off at some unknown point and then we're two people wondering what we're doing together and what happens, exactly, when we're apart. Does she see other people? Is he still on the prowl? At this point in life you'd think I'd be better at pushing these questions early. But this isn't about knowing - I don't want to know shit. It's about forgetting. It's about forgetting those people who've kicked us both to the curb in favor of wallowing in their own drama and self pity. Those people made the mistake of not reciprocating such freely offered adoration. It's about not looking over our shoulder at the world collapsing outside. We've picked up what's left of our souls and come to this place 47 floors up to watch the sun rise over the lake. Here on this island we're happy and have hope that pleasure can outlast erosion.