SpeedLimit55
Bluelighter
"So? Ya' gonna tell me about her, or what?"
His unexpected, rather uninvited words, seemed unusually loud as they tore through the monotonous silence.
Sheepishly grinning, knowing all the while it was laughable that I deny the obvious truth, I donned the mask of innocence yet again.
"I don't follow". I looked out the window, glancing at the other cars as they flew by. He always drove so damn slow.
"Well, let's see. You're on the phone twenty-four hours a day, you never leave your room, and you haven't stopped smiling since you woke up...whaddya THINK I mean?".
Oh isn't he just clever?
"What, I can't be happy for no reason?"
"Not with a three hundred dollar phone bill you can't."
"All right", I thought to myself. He had me.
Refusing to turn to the left, for fear he'd see the smile stretching across my face, I fogged up the window as I talked into it.
"Nothin' special, just a girl.", I lied.
"Uh huh. What's her name?"
Truth be told, I wanted to saddle up next to him with a cup of coffee and tell him everything. Something about that 'new-relationship-smell' that makes a guy wanna run his mouth.
But, since I "don't get excited about girls", I couldn't let on.
"Look, she's just a girl. It's nothing serious, I'm just so damn bored all the time, I've got nothing else to do".
I may as well have said "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met, we're getting married tomorrow, I stole your credit cards and we're going to get married in Vegas...by Elvis." He had already begun ignoring what I said before my lips ever parted.
As I drifted off to sleep, half terrified he was going to do the same, I thought about her...as usual.
Women.
You know the kind.
Eyes so vibrant they burn your skin.
A voice so soft, so delicate, so gentle you're afraid to speak over it, for fear it will shatter, spilling shards of perfection all over the ground.
Skin so soft your overgrown, often dirty, hands feel like they've been soaked in battery acid in comparison?
Yeah, you know.
Well, take that and multiply it by perfection and add to the power of awe-inspiring beauty and you'll be getting close.
This was far from 'just another girl'.
No need to drone on about how we met, why it had to be preordained by God's Boss's Boss, or offer proof showing that it was truly the first of it's kind.
You wouldn't understand anyway.
What really got me was the effect she had on ME.
The effect, so obvious to everyone BUT me, that I refused to believe.
Ever wake up on the RIGHT side of the bed?
Hope out of bed and the water in the shower seems to be hot the INSTANT you turn it on?
The morning show FINALLY decides it's worth while to play music, and, of course, they play your ten favorite songs, in a row, commercial free.
No shells in your eggs, the top stays on the pepper shaker, and you've got JUST enough OJ for one more glass...and boy is it cold.
Ya walk outside, finding the check REALLY WAS in the mail.
It's 68 degrees...on the fifth day of January.
You hit the highway...and it appears the rest of the nation has the day off.
The pigeons have done their deed everywhere BUT your front window.
The days where you take a deep, long breath of the brisk, cool air, and you'd swear someone were pumping some sort of intoxicating drug into the air.
With her, that intoxication became love...or was it the other way around? Yes. Her love is rather intoxicating.
We finally arrived at our destination.
I'm a small guy.
Not so much short anymore, but small.
Couple that with my babyface and girly-sized brown eyes, I pass for sixteen on a good day.
The woman behind the desk had obviously fallen victim to "wrong side of the bed" disease. To say she looked 'less than pleased' to see us, obviously her first customers of the day, would be an understatement.
She gave us her little schpeel, our room keys, told us where the (broken) ice machine was, and asked him if he wanted a key to the honor bar.
Of course he turned it down.
As we made our way to our rooms, half exhausted and half dead, we were greeted by the sounds which would later plague us all through the night.
Children in need of Ritalin, who were, of course, given sugar as a substitute. And apparently lots of it.
Ever the grumpy old man when he gets less than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, I agreed to keep the TV down.
After about five minutes of "Green Acres" re-runs, I finally found a way to drown out the sounds of the screaming children...they were no match for his snoring.
So this was it. I'm really gonna do it.
By this time we had been in each others company for a total of 6 days (not back to back), we had made love a countless number of times, and I was already falling for her...hard.
I pulled the number from my pocket, annoyed that I had let it get wet, causing the ink to run.
I don't know why I cared, really. I had memorized her number after only dialing it twice.
I called and we talked.
About what isn't really important now. Although at the time it seemed life or death.
I suppose 2 hours is a bit lengthy, especially when dialed from a hotel room. But the company was paying for it...So I let it slide.
Afraid I would ultimately fall asleep and make a fool of myself, I begged her forgiveness, promised her another call in the morning, and hung up the phone.
Then the rush set in.
Thirty seconds prior I could hardly keep my eyes open.
Now comfortably hid underneath the darkness, I released the smile demons from their cage.
If he weren't snoring so loudly I would SWEAR he could hear me smiling.
As I drifted off to sleep, thoughts of her once again creeped through my sap-stricken brain.
I went over the conversation in my head a few more times, then dozed off to sleep. Her face awaited me in my dreams, and for that I was ever grateful.
When you haven't had more than 4 hours sleep, there are few things in the world that matter...save the idea of more sleep.
I was greeted with two things I wasn't really to keen on.
The first being the rather annoyingly high pitched squawk of the alarm clock, the other, it's apparent tag-team partner, was the splash of ice cold water that seemed to work it's way into my dream.
"You are such an asshole." I grumbled, dripping wet, as I made my way to the shower.
I showered, he shaved, we dressed, and made our way to the restaurant.
"I'll take a coffee and a coke please." I asked, eyes closed, of the young lady taking our orders.
Over a plate of eggs I realized, with his help, something I hold dear to this very day.
"You're in love, aren't you?"
He had some eggs in the corner of his mouth.
It's hard to take someone serious when they have egg on their face. (Wow. Egg on their face. So much of the world seemed to make sense at that moment.)
It had taken me a while.
Hell, who am I kidding. I knew then and I know now that it was fast.
Too fast almost.
So what's the point?
Why this long diatribe about a memory you care nothing about?
It had been 3 weeks since we first met.
3 weeks.
What a scary thought.
How did he "know" that I was "in love"?
"Last night...when you got off the phone....You said "I love you"".
I hate the way old men drink their coffee, it turns my stomach.
"I love you"?, I thought to myself.
Only a month prior, I had promised myself and everyone around me that I was done with the female of the species.
Convinced they were creatures of intrigue at first, which later metamorphisized into some sort of vampirous spawn of all things evil, I was sick of the heartache, and through with their games.
That one came back to bite me in the ass.
Like a fool I let my guard down.
Not only with him, that night in the hotel room...he wasn't supposed to hear that.
Jesus. He was supposed to be SLEEPING.
Whatever.
I let my guard down with her.
"No way" was I gonna let myself fall in love with this one, I had told myself.
Here I sit, almost 9 months later, married to that woman.
Even to this day, I'll wake up at 2, 3, or 4am...and roll over, switch on the light, and stare.
When I was a kid, I'd wake up in the middle of the night to make sure my new toy was there. As if some thief were going to break in and steal my new Powerwheels Ferrari.
I'm always afraid I'll wake her up, but I never do.
I know it's impolite, even a bit creepy, to stare.
But you've never seen her sleep. You've never brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her cheek as she rested.
You've never held her close at the airport, in tears, terrified and confused, not knowing when you'd ever see her again.
You've never had to say good-bye, not to her.
You've also never broke her heart.
It seems letting my guard down is one of my less impressive talents.
In the same way I let the angel of love (formerly believed to be a demon) into my life, I let the demon of mistrust (cleverly disguised as the angel of opportunity) into OUR life.
Today I ate breakfast with him again.
Eggs and toast, bacon, and waffles.
We chatted boringly about our day ahead, about the days passed, a little bit about her, mostly about me.
Still reeling from the heartache I've caused her, I looked at him.
With egg on my face, I said "I really love her, ya know that don't you?"
Ever wise and always slow to respond, he looked at me and said, "I've known it all along."
Through the most difficult times in our lives, and certainly through the best, we've held hands, exchanged blows, traded kisses, and swapped dirty looks.
I look back at all the times she's been hurt in the past, both by me, and by others, and I can now honestly say, it really is over.
I learned something else today, rather, realized it again for the first time.
Even demons are a type of angel.
They may try to trick and confuse you, as they have us, but always remember to use the sharp daggers of the demons as nothing more than finely tuned instruments of Cupid.
May all your days be filled with memories, and your nights occupied with meaningful tasks...like brushing the hair from her eyes.
I love you.
His unexpected, rather uninvited words, seemed unusually loud as they tore through the monotonous silence.
Sheepishly grinning, knowing all the while it was laughable that I deny the obvious truth, I donned the mask of innocence yet again.
"I don't follow". I looked out the window, glancing at the other cars as they flew by. He always drove so damn slow.
"Well, let's see. You're on the phone twenty-four hours a day, you never leave your room, and you haven't stopped smiling since you woke up...whaddya THINK I mean?".
Oh isn't he just clever?
"What, I can't be happy for no reason?"
"Not with a three hundred dollar phone bill you can't."
"All right", I thought to myself. He had me.
Refusing to turn to the left, for fear he'd see the smile stretching across my face, I fogged up the window as I talked into it.
"Nothin' special, just a girl.", I lied.
"Uh huh. What's her name?"
Truth be told, I wanted to saddle up next to him with a cup of coffee and tell him everything. Something about that 'new-relationship-smell' that makes a guy wanna run his mouth.
But, since I "don't get excited about girls", I couldn't let on.
"Look, she's just a girl. It's nothing serious, I'm just so damn bored all the time, I've got nothing else to do".
I may as well have said "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met, we're getting married tomorrow, I stole your credit cards and we're going to get married in Vegas...by Elvis." He had already begun ignoring what I said before my lips ever parted.
As I drifted off to sleep, half terrified he was going to do the same, I thought about her...as usual.
Women.
You know the kind.
Eyes so vibrant they burn your skin.
A voice so soft, so delicate, so gentle you're afraid to speak over it, for fear it will shatter, spilling shards of perfection all over the ground.
Skin so soft your overgrown, often dirty, hands feel like they've been soaked in battery acid in comparison?
Yeah, you know.
Well, take that and multiply it by perfection and add to the power of awe-inspiring beauty and you'll be getting close.
This was far from 'just another girl'.
No need to drone on about how we met, why it had to be preordained by God's Boss's Boss, or offer proof showing that it was truly the first of it's kind.
You wouldn't understand anyway.
What really got me was the effect she had on ME.
The effect, so obvious to everyone BUT me, that I refused to believe.
Ever wake up on the RIGHT side of the bed?
Hope out of bed and the water in the shower seems to be hot the INSTANT you turn it on?
The morning show FINALLY decides it's worth while to play music, and, of course, they play your ten favorite songs, in a row, commercial free.
No shells in your eggs, the top stays on the pepper shaker, and you've got JUST enough OJ for one more glass...and boy is it cold.
Ya walk outside, finding the check REALLY WAS in the mail.
It's 68 degrees...on the fifth day of January.
You hit the highway...and it appears the rest of the nation has the day off.
The pigeons have done their deed everywhere BUT your front window.
The days where you take a deep, long breath of the brisk, cool air, and you'd swear someone were pumping some sort of intoxicating drug into the air.
With her, that intoxication became love...or was it the other way around? Yes. Her love is rather intoxicating.
We finally arrived at our destination.
I'm a small guy.
Not so much short anymore, but small.
Couple that with my babyface and girly-sized brown eyes, I pass for sixteen on a good day.
The woman behind the desk had obviously fallen victim to "wrong side of the bed" disease. To say she looked 'less than pleased' to see us, obviously her first customers of the day, would be an understatement.
She gave us her little schpeel, our room keys, told us where the (broken) ice machine was, and asked him if he wanted a key to the honor bar.
Of course he turned it down.
As we made our way to our rooms, half exhausted and half dead, we were greeted by the sounds which would later plague us all through the night.
Children in need of Ritalin, who were, of course, given sugar as a substitute. And apparently lots of it.
Ever the grumpy old man when he gets less than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, I agreed to keep the TV down.
After about five minutes of "Green Acres" re-runs, I finally found a way to drown out the sounds of the screaming children...they were no match for his snoring.
So this was it. I'm really gonna do it.
By this time we had been in each others company for a total of 6 days (not back to back), we had made love a countless number of times, and I was already falling for her...hard.
I pulled the number from my pocket, annoyed that I had let it get wet, causing the ink to run.
I don't know why I cared, really. I had memorized her number after only dialing it twice.
I called and we talked.
About what isn't really important now. Although at the time it seemed life or death.
I suppose 2 hours is a bit lengthy, especially when dialed from a hotel room. But the company was paying for it...So I let it slide.
Afraid I would ultimately fall asleep and make a fool of myself, I begged her forgiveness, promised her another call in the morning, and hung up the phone.
Then the rush set in.
Thirty seconds prior I could hardly keep my eyes open.
Now comfortably hid underneath the darkness, I released the smile demons from their cage.
If he weren't snoring so loudly I would SWEAR he could hear me smiling.
As I drifted off to sleep, thoughts of her once again creeped through my sap-stricken brain.
I went over the conversation in my head a few more times, then dozed off to sleep. Her face awaited me in my dreams, and for that I was ever grateful.
When you haven't had more than 4 hours sleep, there are few things in the world that matter...save the idea of more sleep.
I was greeted with two things I wasn't really to keen on.
The first being the rather annoyingly high pitched squawk of the alarm clock, the other, it's apparent tag-team partner, was the splash of ice cold water that seemed to work it's way into my dream.
"You are such an asshole." I grumbled, dripping wet, as I made my way to the shower.
I showered, he shaved, we dressed, and made our way to the restaurant.
"I'll take a coffee and a coke please." I asked, eyes closed, of the young lady taking our orders.
Over a plate of eggs I realized, with his help, something I hold dear to this very day.
"You're in love, aren't you?"
He had some eggs in the corner of his mouth.
It's hard to take someone serious when they have egg on their face. (Wow. Egg on their face. So much of the world seemed to make sense at that moment.)
It had taken me a while.
Hell, who am I kidding. I knew then and I know now that it was fast.
Too fast almost.
So what's the point?
Why this long diatribe about a memory you care nothing about?
It had been 3 weeks since we first met.
3 weeks.
What a scary thought.
How did he "know" that I was "in love"?
"Last night...when you got off the phone....You said "I love you"".
I hate the way old men drink their coffee, it turns my stomach.
"I love you"?, I thought to myself.
Only a month prior, I had promised myself and everyone around me that I was done with the female of the species.
Convinced they were creatures of intrigue at first, which later metamorphisized into some sort of vampirous spawn of all things evil, I was sick of the heartache, and through with their games.
That one came back to bite me in the ass.
Like a fool I let my guard down.
Not only with him, that night in the hotel room...he wasn't supposed to hear that.
Jesus. He was supposed to be SLEEPING.
Whatever.
I let my guard down with her.
"No way" was I gonna let myself fall in love with this one, I had told myself.
Here I sit, almost 9 months later, married to that woman.
Even to this day, I'll wake up at 2, 3, or 4am...and roll over, switch on the light, and stare.
When I was a kid, I'd wake up in the middle of the night to make sure my new toy was there. As if some thief were going to break in and steal my new Powerwheels Ferrari.
I'm always afraid I'll wake her up, but I never do.
I know it's impolite, even a bit creepy, to stare.
But you've never seen her sleep. You've never brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her cheek as she rested.
You've never held her close at the airport, in tears, terrified and confused, not knowing when you'd ever see her again.
You've never had to say good-bye, not to her.
You've also never broke her heart.
It seems letting my guard down is one of my less impressive talents.
In the same way I let the angel of love (formerly believed to be a demon) into my life, I let the demon of mistrust (cleverly disguised as the angel of opportunity) into OUR life.
Today I ate breakfast with him again.
Eggs and toast, bacon, and waffles.
We chatted boringly about our day ahead, about the days passed, a little bit about her, mostly about me.
Still reeling from the heartache I've caused her, I looked at him.
With egg on my face, I said "I really love her, ya know that don't you?"
Ever wise and always slow to respond, he looked at me and said, "I've known it all along."
Through the most difficult times in our lives, and certainly through the best, we've held hands, exchanged blows, traded kisses, and swapped dirty looks.
I look back at all the times she's been hurt in the past, both by me, and by others, and I can now honestly say, it really is over.
I learned something else today, rather, realized it again for the first time.
Even demons are a type of angel.
They may try to trick and confuse you, as they have us, but always remember to use the sharp daggers of the demons as nothing more than finely tuned instruments of Cupid.
May all your days be filled with memories, and your nights occupied with meaningful tasks...like brushing the hair from her eyes.
I love you.
