Late Afternoon Thoughts

I’ve never really been the one to talk about marriages and settling down seriously. I just feel like I’m too young to even be thinking about it. Be that as it may, it’d be a lie for me to say that I’d never pictured myself being someone’s wife. Cooking meals for my future husband is my marriage wet dream. The thought of going grocery shopping and making the food in the kitchen, with my husband anticipating the meal just excites me. Imagine the yes-this-is-what-I’m-talking-about smile curving on his face after the first bite. What a total bliss that would be. Anyway, this is definitely one of the many things I’d look forward to if I were to settle down. Apart from the passionate lovemaking, of course. 

Lingering Feelings

It’s funny how all these years we have been breathing in the same air and living under the same sky, the same laws, going to the same places, walking the same paths, eating the same food, but never once encountered one another after our last. Never once didn’t I anticipate our future encounter every time I left the threshold of my home. I wonder if you did the same. 

Dear Love

I woke up on a Sunday morn thinking of the nice things that could be done with you, with Rachael Yamagata playin’ on the turntable. The things that I’d want to do with no one but you. I was picturing us in the kitchen making flapjacks for breakfast when suddenly I Wish You Love played and it hit me that you and I could never ever be. 

Les Liaisons Dangereuses

“Did you not know that only pleasure has the right to take the bandage from love’s eyes? But what am I saying? What need has Madame de Tourvel of illusions? To be adorable she has only to be herself. You accuse her of being ill-dressed. I agree. Clothes don’t become her. Everything that hides her, disfigures. It is in the freedom of dishabille that she is truly ravishing. Thanks to the present overpowering heat that she wears only a simple linen gown which reveals her supple, rounded figure. A single muslin kerchief covers her breasts, and my covert but searching glances have already grasped their enchanting contours. Her face, you say, is inexpressive. But what is it to express at moments when nothing touches her heart? No, she is not of course one of your coquettes with their deceptive looks that are sometimes seductive, but always false. She does not know how to disguise an empty phrase with a studied smile; and, although she has the most beautiful teeth in the world, she laughs only when she is amused. If you could see, when she is playful, what a picture she makes of frank and simple gaiety, how, when she is beside some unfortunate she is anxious to help, her eyes shine with innocent joy and compassionate kindness! If you could see, especially at the slightest word of praise or flattery, how her divine features colour with that touching embarrassment which springs from an entirely artless modesty!…She is chaste and devout: you therefore judge her cold and lifeless. I think very much differently. What an astonishing sensibility she must have, if her feelings extend even to her husband, if she can continue to love a man whom she never sees! What more certain proof could you wish for? I have, however, discovered yet another.” – The Vicomte de Valmont