My sweet darlings. It’s been too long. I’ve been busier than a bee in a clover field, but I have not forgotten you. NO! Of course not, how could I?
As last summer was as season of pure indulgence and delight, this summer has been equally intense with hard work and business.
With the onset of summer’s end and harvest (yes, yes, I’m afraid, I did see a leaf fall from a tree today), I have begun the work of nesting for the long, cold, winter months that are meant for snuggling and indulging in all pleasures of the flesh; Rich wine and food, long stretches of night with our lovers and languishing weekend afternoons reading, writing and socializing to our hearts’ content.
I was listening to some Rachmaninoff in the tubby-wubby last night, sunk up to my shoulders and sipping hot tea. I was thinking of someone special…a tall dark and handsome someone…or someone(s).
A someone who had in the past, perched on the floor and recited Neruda poetry and poured Cava for me as I indulged in a long soak. There was also a someone who always unwrapped a small, fresh bar of lemon soap and ran a bath for me while he prepared dinner (making sure to have a glass of beautiful Burgundy at the ready). The man who always knew what hors d’oeuvres and drink to order before I even got to the restaurant.
I also thought about the man who would take me to a pub every Friday night and how genuinely happy he was as we sipped our beer and took in the live music. There was also the fellow who bumped me around a perfect autumn in California wine country, in a jeep that had an endless stream of Van Morrison playing.
Ah yes, the memories came flooding back.
In my friskier days, I was a woman who knew exactly what her décolletage was capable of. I knew what temptation I could bait with a shy smile, a quick breath on the neck, an innocent dance or a look of surprise.
These days I know that the relationships I desire with the more handsome sex require no secret hooks, just sincerity, generosity and compassion.
After all ladies, these poor little men-folk think we’re all just fabulous as we are. For the handsome princes who are eager to please, so should we be. The rest can rot darlings.
As I mature, my intimate moments with men have taken on a flavor of deep friendship, mutual respect, and long-standing companionship. My lovers are my friends, and not a nemesis to be conquered or toyed with.
Don’t get me wrong friends, I still have my sly wit and twisted sense of humour. I’m not completely cured of an occasional indulgence of ego. Especially with the young ones. After all, they’re just so damn cute!
I’ve merely fallen in love, time and again, with the wonderful, lush machismo of my male compadres. The temptations are no longer superficial and fleeting. They are real, meaningful, and abundant with promise.
Wishing you the joy of lovers who are friends, lemon soap, and at least one fellow who knows how to order your favourite drink without having to ask.