Saturday, March 31, 2012

Resting Heavy in a Supernova (A Short Story Looking Through the Eyes of "Male Intuition")

Butterflies gather around her cascading mahogany tresses while she lies so carelessly on the field of luscious green grass. Being the young teenage dream she is, her naïve sexuality captivates your every whim. She is breathe-taking and extremely avant-garde to what a typical girl of her age would be like. She is a nerd who spends most of her time reading science fiction novels and finds herself fascinated with all things paranormal. In other words, you two are one in the same. She is your best friend. You like her…maybe one day, even love her if you are so fortunate enough to steal her heart like she has done with yours. What do you know about love? You are only seventeen. Your older brother pushes you every day to ask her out.
Instead, it takes you six years to finally gain the courage to do so. 

Live like it is your last day alive. With flesh, with blood, with heavy breathing escaping your chapped lips. Your last day being human. Your last day being you.

Easier said than done.

You take her hand in yours. She has stuck loyal by your side for the longest time as she saw you move through different relationships throughout the years. You imagine that she knew eventually you and her would be an “item”. She is everything you are not…patient is at the top of the list. For the first date, you take her to one of those romantic concerts in the park. Under the stars of a gleaming twilight sky. She is very well aware that she is wearing a skirt tonight, so she is careful when trying to sit down close to you. Temptation creeps into your imagination and you secretly grow curious to find out what kind of underwear she is wearing, but at the same time, you respect her way too much to do something on that level. At least, not now.

You notice some douche bags in the dark corner of the park begging to get her attention. Whistling and yelling out, “Hey girl! Come over here and sit with a real man...not that pansy next to you!”

Being angered by their stupidity, you retaliate by shouting out, “Screw you, asshole!”

You are more than ready to go kick their ass. Blood boils to the brim; however, you stop. You then realize she does not glance over to give attention to their idiocy. She giggles softly to herself and grabs your hand gesturing that the chivalry is much appreciated. Her small, yet, affectionate touch is by far the best sensation you have ever felt…in your short 23 year life span. The only person she looks at is you. Her honey brown eyes are your weakness. They sparkle every time they gaze upon your sleep ridden face. This becomes a very obvious indicator that she really likes you...maybe even loves you. Your nerves shut down and you can’t help but feel powerless in her presence.
After the final band has said their goodnights, take her for some coffee to talk about the idea of aliens visiting earth. She finds it a major turn on when you act silly with her.

If you are remotely audacious, pull her curls away from her face and softly whisper in her ear, “Let’s get out of here and continue this conversation over at my place.”

For the café owners, it is a typical Friday night; they see crap like this on a weekly basis. Two young, foolish kids in "love". For you, it is the night you finally become a man in the over dominating presence of the woman you feel is destined for you. Her sultry laughter emanates from her cushioned lips while she carelessly loops her hair between her fingers. She leans in to seal your fate. You are hooked like a fish on a rod. Her childlike eagerness and juvenile outlook on what could happen in the future, has you falling for her even more so than ever before. You adore the feeling you get when you peak out of the corner of your eye and notice her really infatuated by your kiss. God, it seems like you and her were meant to be.

Take a step back and come to terms with every consequence that might happen.

Fast forward 15 years and you will find yourself married to that teenage goddess you loved since you were a boy. She is now running around in a tattered kitchen apron in a crazed frenzy trying to control your three kids. Yes, three kids. You struggle internally every day, debating whether your youngest child is even yours. You tried explaining to her that you had no real desire to have children, but unfortunately, the night you conceived your first child was the night of your first official date. You and your wife got lush drunk at your apartment after the café make out session that night which led to "various activities" in the bedroom. That night, marked the beginning of the end. The beginning of your perpetual downward spiral. You and her now live in a mediocre two bedroom apartment in the heart of Downtown Los Angeles.
Much like a small toy dog, she incessantly nags…every day. She will cock her head to the side, roll her sandpaper fingers into a ball, place them on her hips, and scrunch up her aged face highlighting the deep wrinkles around her brow. She snarls in a shrilled voice, “Not the greatest place to raise your family, is it?! I expected more from you…but no! What a sheer disappointment you turned out to be! Don’t you even care about us…and what we use to dream of together when we were young?! You’re useless and you will always be that way! You’ll never change.”

Your wife is right…you are pathetic.

Look at yourself.

You wanted to become a well-rounded, dignified, published writer. What are you now? A lethargic, bitter bank teller working in the heart of the Hispanic ghetto who has barely enough income to sustain his family from week to week; however, you find it fascinating how your wife has not tried to look for a job to help lighten your load. Don’t argue back. You’ll get nowhere. Over the years of being married, she has become the most annoying person you have ever been around. That is why you tend to work late, go out for drink right after, then around 3:00 in the morning you sneak back into bed. While you snore, she smells the Läger on your breath and decides not to speak to you the following day. As blissful as the silence might be at times, she begins to fight back with you on the necessities that are needed to sustain everyone for a bit longer. This constant pattern only puts you in hell…so does her obnoxiously low sex drive. At times you cry, feeling that your wife’s unhappiness is largely resting on your shoulders or on the relationship you two once had together. All your choices have now morphed into a supernova of disparity, hatred, unrequited love, and absence of happiness. You feel unsatisfied. Defeated and worn down to the core. Walking down a freshly paved street in the middle of the night seems to relieve some tension…but it is not enough. You look up to the dense, blackened sky and try to find some reason why God still keeps you around. The hunger for life has been butchered out of your once innocent eyes. Tears fall from your stoic face and a shriek of agony emerges while you cry yourself to sleep on the couch. While you sleep, you often dream about how peaceful your life would have been if you never married your imaginary goddess.

The alarm goes off. Time to wake up.

You still have a chance…

Rewind back to you and her. If you want to roll the dice and not listen to my advice, take her back home to your place. Trust me, you will never be satisfied. Instead, pretend your boss calls you and schedules you for the early shift tomorrow morning. Apologize and tell her that you two can meet up sometime next weekend. Plan it accordingly. Once Friday rolls around, call her and use the excuse of strep throat. She will get the hint. In between a prolonged awkward silence, you try to make her laugh. You fail royally. Still keep her on the line…and explain to her that aliens will forage the earth and explore all the celestial bodies in space just to find her. Tell her that one day she will be known as the intergalactic Queen of the Andromeda galaxy. She laughs uncontrollably and somehow gets lost in a nebula millions of light years away.

"Euphoria Exposed"
Photo taken and edited by Skye Lyon

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