2004-01-13 - 11:47 a.m. The Strange, the unusual, and the odd Some people say that life is interesting. I think we all know this isn�t true. I mean how many �memories� do you have from each day? I would say rarely do you accrue memories daily. You gather familiarities, like the smell of a husband, a morning routines. But not memories. How often do you say to yourself, �Man, I was thinking back to breakfast last Wednesday and that bran muffin�holy cow!�� Almost never, unless a car flew through the wall immediately after you finished your Bran and Grape Nuts. These are things that you forget almost as soon as they happen. So that means life consists of three things. Memories (things that are worth remembering), familiarities (things around you consistently that give you comfort and routine) and Everything else (sleeping, crapping, waiting in line, commuting, watching TV�etc) At least for my life. So I will never claim that life is interesting. I spend most of my time either doing the same old thing or thinking about things that can only be called daydreaming. I do this to escape what I am actually subjected to day to day. I turn the sweaty bald Russian smushed next to me on the train into my first hand �jib. You see that was a moment. And the moments are what I live for. I was 15. She also was 15. I had captured her heart at a Mansion that was converted to a retreat house on the beautiful hills outside of Andover. We had sipped hot chocolate, exchanged glances, and I held her hand as the sun set that night of the final retreat. One of the more interesting things that I have found is that in relationships men are usually the sexual �pusher.� They are the ones that really want to bring things to the next level, and try and jump head first into the sexual swimming pool. I was not a pusher. I was just born differently and I felt that pressuring a girl will cause resentment, it could cause spite, and in some cases it might ever damage them for their entire lives. But I wasn�t about to do that. She was a timid flower, and I was going to take my time, and move at her pace. We were 15 and I was in no rush. It was three months before our first kiss. It was six before we went to second. She was a beautiful, proper girl who was taught that men were only out to get in her pants. She was far too sensible for her age. It was three weeks before her 16th birthday, I was still 15. We had been playing some video games in my house. We had been left alone for more than an hour, which was rare considering the hawks that our parents were; in a vacant attempt to try and prevent any sexual activity. It was a vain attempt because we had no plans of sex before marriage or anything of that sort. The first time you ask a girl if she wants to �touch it� or if she wants you to �rub something� is a complete embarrassment. You see, when neither of you have ever done it, learned how to do, or have any idea what you are doing, I suppose it�s pretty much like trying to start of fire by rubbing two rocks together. Your hands are just going to get tired and there aren�t going to be any sparks. I wasn�t a pusher, but my loins ached with hormonal hunger, so I opened the lines of communication for sexual progression talks. After twenty minutes of �discussion� we decided to try it. But see, everything was so new. Never being touched down there by anyone else opens itself to truly unique experience. Every finger movement feels like tickle that you have never yet felt. Every rustle of down there hair feels like a groin massage. Basically we spent about five minutes rubbing around down there on each other with the pants mostly on, and it probably looked like we were looking for loose change in each other�s undies. About five minutes because at that point; my father walked in. He was going to his office, and he spotted incident about the same time we spotted him. It was more awkward than it sounds, and he got out of there faster than robber from a bank. It was never spoken of. The point is, as harmless and ungratifying sexually as this was, since afterwards I wanted to hump anything that WAS nailed down, I remember the incident clear as day. It wasn�t because it was the greatest moment of my life, it was just that it was so unique and unusual that I could never forget it. And that�s how I live my life. I don�t live for my job, I don�t live for sex, I don�t live for my free time. I live for the unexpected, the unusual, and the odd. These are the things that make life such an interesting tale. | |||||||||||
