I admit it: I can be a cheesy romantic. Not necessarily the chocolates-in-a-heart-shaped-box with a serenade-in-candlelight-with-rose-pedals kind of cheesy (well, not always). Hopefully more of the creative-surprise-with-a-caress-of-intimacy kind.
Or maybe not. I don't know. You be the judge:
I admit it: I'm not always a "positive" influence on small children.
What exactly is "positive" anyways? And who's to say that teaching a four-year-old girl to French-kiss my girlfriend is not a "positive" thing anyhow?
Before you give me that look, let me explain.
My desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable break-up songs, in chronological order:
It's been a while since I've had the energy to write. To be honest, I'm not really in the mood right now. But the cathartic nature of writing is what is compelling me to sit here and type. Not that I'm the one who really needs the healing.
I looked across the table and watched Kathy reading her textbook. Her eyes were locked in a fierce struggle with each and every word. She conquered each one relentlessly and moved across the page swiftly. Then she noticed my gaze and looked up.
"I'm craving Chicken McNuggets," she declared.
I lean over close, close enough to smell her perfume. I brush a lock of hair away from her ear. And I say:
"If I told you that you have a lovely body, would you hold it against me?"
"Squeak squeak squeak!" went the little toddler's shoes as he raced by and out of the pearl tea cafe. His harried Mom raced after him and grabbed his arm.
"Wait, honey. Mommy's still waiting for her order," she said as she pulled him back in.
"Squeak squeak squeak," went his shoes as he followed her back in.
You ever notice how, when you're hungry, the things you talk about inevitably turn to food? Take this recent phone conversation, for example:
"Oops!" Kathy yelped. Her expression froze as her eyes searched the food court, making sure no one saw the blob of ketchup that just landed on her left boob.
I looked over and grinned. Kathy's eyes slowly drifted downward. With the burger still halfway in her mouth, she stared sadly at the red dot on her white t-shirt. "Oops!" she muttered again.
It was truly an awful sight. It was one of the Five Most Ungodly Sights Ever, right next to monkey brains, overturned eyelids, a smashed up brand new BMW M3 with Dinan aftermarket parts, and Michael Jackson's nose.
I cry just thinking about it. I'm crying right now.
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA