many things i could write. but one thing is taking over my brain like some kind of parasite.
i went on a date. none of this 'hanging out' or 'being friends' child's play. i asked a girl to dinner and a movie and she agreed. and my first real date was quite successful.
despite the fact that there was neither dinner (dessert at la madeline) nor a movie (sold out) involved. that's got to take some kind of skill, right?
so it's coming close to my time to be heading home, and not a lot has happened. i've had a fine time, but my hopes were up in all honesty. then came the moment of truth.
i reached the door.
i hardly consider the door to be the threshold that many great writers conceive it to be, but now i know why only the great write from experience. the door is, in fact, the key to great writing.
we hugged each other very warmly. one might even say we 'embraced.' simply put, we held on to one another, ignoring the floors and walls in the background and concentrating on the tactile sense. i felt a purity, an innocence - a warmth. neither of us wanted to consider the reality that outside of this bubble, the cold world waited for me to accept my challenge to get home by midnight. it was 11:20 by my watch and this girl lived a good 40-45 minutes away, depending on traffic and time of day, of course.
the time came for us to let go. a tense, hushed 'sigh' came from our bubble. the warmth was gone, dissipating into the air with a last 'sigh' of regret. we had returned to the real world by the time i leaned over like some ancient tower and kissed her on the cheek. my real sense of sight had not yet come back, as my eyes were strangely confused by her face in one eye and the house behind us in the other. she opened the door and said something that didn't matter.
i stepped outside into that intimidating cold, turned around, and looked at her again. i knew that the warmth had come, and she did too. i could see it in her eyes.
i took one step back closer to her, standing immediately in the doorway. i had to hug her again. the warmth was a beautiful thing, and i felt cold. another hug. our eyes met, and we stared, but i didn't move in.
no, i was too timid. the poisonous cold of the outside world had already started to take its effect on me. meanwhile, i saw a certain happiness in her eyes - one that i hadn't seen in a girl in a long, long time.
something had to be done. with my heart frozen, my head took over. 'ask her permission, idiot.'
looking into her eyes, my scared voice quivered: 'can i?'
suddenly her eyes disappeared, followed quickly by the whole world.
the warmth had rushed back to us. and a beauty i had never seen before in a girl was right in front of my face. even with my eyes closed, i could see it then.
i had been told before that i was 'a good kisser.' i never believed it. but, there was something different about this girl's kiss. something magical in her touch. something that made me not care about her gyrating hips, or her shapely body. i felt like i was a good kisser for once in my life.
the great irony of it all was that the door was still there. i stood there as an outsider, being welcomed by her body, but not yet by her heart. i stood outside her home, her sphere, her very essence. fortunately, the warmth was still there, giving me a taste of what could come if i were to step back inside, to be welcomed into her heart.
that kiss never felt like it was going to come to an end. and i loved knowing that. (she certainly wasn't stopping.) but eventually the cold came to be too much for us and the kiss that never should have ended met an untimely demise. that good thing came to its own end. my voice was still weak, so i whispered.
'that was the most beautiful--'
she giggled softly. her little laugh triggered a smile in my face, and not the voluntary kind that i've come to make so many times to people i really didn't care about at all. no, my heart was content, and i was pleasantly surprised to have kissed one of the most attractive girls i had ever met.
her face still close to mine, she said 'now get going or else you'll be late getting home.' but her voice sounded nothing like the words read on paper. i could hear the caretaker in her, the part of her heart that was putting my welfare before any of her desires. the words said nothing like the voice did. my head heard the advice to take the challenge, but my heart heard something more to the effect of 'i'd be a wonderful mother.'
i finally stepped back, the poisonous cold telling me i simply couldn't stay there all night. we traded good-nights, and as i backed away we still clung to each other until our fingers were pulled apart. but that time there was a difference. there was no collective sigh. my heart still floated as i looked back at her through her window, halfway down the eternal walkway from her door to my car. i accepted the challenge from the world and i was going to beat my curfew. with her behind me, there was nothing i couldn't do.
the warmth had not left me. i prayed it had not left her.
i reached my car at last, wishing to smell her perfume still in the passenger's seat. no luck. i sighed, half missing the scent of what i think was curve, half happy beyond belief.
noting my dry lips, i for once refused to put on chapstick. no, i wanted to savor everything that had just happened.
i turned on the car and looked at the clock. 11:25. as i turned off of her street and onto the deserted, quiet streets of southlake my body began to shake. i wished with all my might that i could still taste her. saddened by her absence, i pushed on the gas pedal.
i got home at 11:55 that night, walked through the doors of my garage, my mom's room, and my room on the way to bed without thinking anything of them.
yes, i was ready for every door that would ever come across my path.