Tuesday, May 2, 2017

A Slight Revision of My OkCupid Profile

Ok, let's be real. Yes, I am happy to "share an adventure" with you, though mostly what this seems to mean is a weekend skiing in Aspen, which is not so much an adventure as a purchased entertainment. There's nothing wrong with that; it's just not, exactly, an "adventure," or if it is, it's an extremely minor one, like Bilbo Baggins venturing forth to the local pub for a pint. Also, I don't ski.

So, to be real, mostly what I would like is not an adventure, but someone with whom to share a perfectly prepared dinner, or a crossword puzzle, or a particularly well-written book, or, of course, some spirited lovemaking. This is, I admit, not a very high bar, and so it must likewise be admitted that I have several possible levels of entry, relationship-wise.

The first is essentially physical. You may, for instance, not even be on OkCupid, and simply approach me at a dance party, where I am standing by the sidelines, somewhat sweaty, having been popping and locking with both skill and abandon. Since you are also presumably drunk, or high on something or other, you disregard your mostly useless mores and descend upon me like a divine blessing upon the brow of a lucky mortal, and in short order we kiss, the sensations bursting upon us like fireworks, spines arched, lips transcendent, every molecule ecstatic. From there, who knows? Truly, the universe is infinite and wondrous.

The second is a hybrid. Okay, we've got some physical connection; great! But what about after, as we're lying on our sweat-soaked sheets on this too-warm summer night, joyfully exhausted? What then, when I mention how this reminds me of a line from Theodore Roethke, of the "prodigious mowing we did make," or of the Song of Solomon via Robert Heinlein, of "thy breasts ... like two young roes," roes being young deer, i.e. fawns? Can you hang? You needn't know the literature; maybe it reminds you more of a particular afternoon on a beach in Hawaii, those years ago, and you slip into a melancholy reflection on the dissolution of the body; or perhaps it's a certain song that keeps playing in your head, a song I've never heard before but that now you sing for me in a so-sweet mezzo-soprano.

But let's be real. Even this is circumferenced by fate; we've hit a fine middle ground, but the heights, alas, are not to be reached. There is still something essential missing, some critical bond elided, a single atom pulled by its charge to some competing structure.

Still, somewhere – somewhere! – there is a lock to fit this key. You have to believe it. It's happened before, after all, even if just for a little while. For a moment, a day, a week, a year, everything seemed to make sense; it was just right, destined, imbued with an inevitability that you may spend your whole life seeking to experience again. When you find that one, you will take their hands; your doubt will vanish like a wisp of fog in the daylight; you will whisper You, and you, and forever you. Like perfectly mirrored waves of sound, you will meet each other and fall into a profound and immeasurable silence. Just gazing upon that beloved visage, you know this silence will continue, on and on, yea, to the last delighted breath.

So if you're into it, let's, like, go for drinks or something. It'll be an adventure!

No comments:

Post a Comment