Okay, I’ll admit it. It’s immensely frustrating living with a lovely woman who is not sharing my bed. Fortunately, despite all my worst instincts, I am capable of remaining a complete gentleman. And her Aspergers is too great to notice any appreciative glances, unless I were to actually say something along the lines of “miss, you look good enough to eat”.
Which I’m not going to do. It's not my place to do so.
Not anymore.
That’s one of the reasons I flee to the office on weekends.
The other one is that I need to be alone, now more so than before.
Without companionship and affection, I require more time to myself.
Yeah, Savage Kitten and I still get along fine. Much better now than a few months ago. And definitely better than just after we broke up.
But given that I cannot look at her with the spark that used to be in my eyes.........
I like having her as a roommate, though. She’s a predictable and reliable quantity.
And after two decades, we’re used to each other’s weird habits (I don’t have any weird habits, but for the sake of balance and fairness, let us rhetorically pretend that I do).
In the past, I would happily ponce around the apartment in my birthday suit in the time between first cup of coffee and going out.
Especially after a bath. Gotta let the skin air a bit, don’t you know.
Without someone glancing appreciatively at my fine manly figure, however, it’s not nearly so much fun.
Now the only time I ponce is when she’s not around.
And no one glances at all.
I ponce really well! Did you know that?
In the year since the break-up, my bed has gotten a bit cluttered.
I no longer need to make room for another person, so in consequence I’ve kind of let it slide.
Besides the various stuffed animals (“roomies”), there are also various cookbooks, a couple of reference books, a world map, and a few binders with internet research printouts (ethnology, foreign politics, porcelain glazes, etc.).
When you sleep alone, you tend to wake up in the middle of the night. Which is as good a time to read about mustard-yellow (three parts lead-antimonate and one part powdered quartz), yun glazes, chocolate ganache, or pickled pork sausages from Chiang Mai as any.
Those rare times when I woke up in the middle of the night while still in a loving relationship, I would also ponce.
Sometimes naked, sometimes clothed. Not ALL poncing requires nudity!
But like with interpretive dance, it helps.
Look, a naked mime!
PONCE! PONCE! PONCE!
At some point, I may lose it entirely. I’ll walk up to a complete stranger and proposition her: “miss, can I tell you about mustard-yellow (three parts lead-antimonate and one part powdered quartz), yun glazes, chocolate ganache, or pickled pork sausages from Chiang Mai?”
If she expresses an interest in ANY of those subjects – especially chocolate ganache, or other fine confectionary subjects – she’s hooked.
More than likely, however, she’ll promptly call the cops on her cell-phone.
“Hello? I wish to report a pervert. He’s at the corner of Stockton and Clay Streets. He’s there RIGHT NOW!
He propositioned me with mustard-yellow (three parts lead-antimonate and one part powdered quartz), yun glazes, chocolate ganache, and pickled pork sausages from Chiang Mai! Yes, TWO glazes, a dubious pork product, and GANACHE!
He even threatened to feed me Linzer Torte! Waaaah!”
No one wants to see a sweet young girl crying in terror.
The humanity! The trauma! The multi-syllabic vocabulary!
Fortunately, despite all my worst instincts, I am still capable of remaining a complete gentleman.
Never mind their tempting innocence, most little ladies I am likely to fall for are incapable of feeling attracted to a scholarly-looking middle-aged studmuffin with an intense affection for comestibles and vitrified products.
No matter how trim and gleamy-eyed.
I know that.
That’s another reason I flee to the office on weekends.
I can read all I want about celadons, curry paste, jade discs, country pâtés, brushwashers, lekvar, sancai overglaze techniques, nước mắm, underglaze blue, Chicken Kiev, Kangxi and Qianlong periods, millefeuille, millefiori, ragoût, and Yixing teapots.
Without interruption, frustration, or disquiet of any kind.
That's what I'm doing right now!
If I were a pervert, my hands would shake and sweat would pour out.
But I am a gentleman.
And rather lonely.
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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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1 comment:
Oh, hell. Chaver, if I had two Cantonese girls, I'd give you one. I' d share. Really.
Sigh.
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