After a bottle and a half of wine, and various and sundry acts of debauchery, a kazillion clichés came home to roost tonight;
Sex is a powerful drug. Be careful what you wish for. Thank ‘god’ for unanswered prayers. Only the good die young. Never mix business with pleasure. A young stud is better than an old cow. Ok, that might not be a cliché. I just made it up, but I think it has a ring to it.
Like the finest of wine, I have mellowed with age. Don’t get me wrong darlings, I still like my men young, virile, with a twist of kink and bad-assery. I still enjoy sensual pleasures that don’t involve linen table service or early-bird rates, if you know what I mean.
But I have, indeed mellowed.
Having had a terrible relationship experience a few years back with a man who makes women dry-heave at the thought of being near a man, I left it well jaded, and feeling rather depleted. Depleted as in; I could care less if another man ever touched me again.
Much to my delight and yours, I’m sure, I have made a hearty recovery and am back in the saddle of all things delightfully-of-the-man-flesh. Miracles do happen darlings. Do not despair. To despair is to turn your back on the goddess who slumbers deep inside your warm, wiggly bits.
But I digress. Back to the clichés. Back to tonight. Back to what I started to tell you in the first place.
Even though I’ve got Ms. Mojo back, it is with a much more mellow demeanor. Instead of being reactive, I’m able to observe my thoughts, and well, what goes on in my head is entertaining as hell.
All of the things that I wanted in the past have flown out the window. What I thought I knew for sure about myself and relationships has died a rather unremarkable death.
Most of us, including my wonderful self, love to live in a black and white world. It’s easy; Right and wrong. Bad and good. Should and shouldn’t.
But it’s never really that easy is it? Life is lived most fully in the grey areas that we struggle so hard to escape.
Tonight, as the candles flickered their last pale light, and the wine glasses stood empty and at attention, I lolled in the soft sheets listening to my favourite songs, much to the chagrin of my lover.
Him: “Aren’t you going to get up and lock the door?”
Him: “I’m not comfortable with that. What if there’s some weirdo out there?”
Moi: “If he looks interesting, send him in.”….and that was the end of the evening’s adult events.
Nothing is for certain. All of the clichés anyone has ever told me about life and relationships flitted through my head, one contradicting the next. I observed them rise and sputter like falling stars.
Tonight I was just thankful to enjoy the moments of delight that came my way; a good meal, a thorough and proper lover, one of my favourite bottles of wine and a deep feeling of being completely sated.
When that feeling fades darlings, as I know it will, there’s always a bourbon night with Mr. C. Rush to make it all better.