Cyber-love Affair (cont'd)
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We awake in the late afternoon. I do not want to leave and she does not want me to go. We spend the entire Sunday in the house. The rain returns and its steady sound outside lulls us into each other's arms. We stay in bed and touch sweetly and play with each other like puppies. We eat, have some tea, watch a video, cuddled together, our bare feet touching under the blanket. We talk about movies and play, actors and filmmaking, traveling in Europe and eating sushi. The day seems to float languidly around us and nothing seems real except how wonderful it is to be together again. She moves me so deeply. I am awed by her sensuality, her fierceness, her courage. She accepts my disappointment and still savors our togetherness. At the moment when she spoke last night my heart cracked open and something happened to me in that instant. I knew then that it isn't over between us but it is different. The window to dreaming has shut and the doorway has opened to real life. I have to begin to ask myself questions that make me very uncomfortable. The last woman I had been with was much younger, with smooth skin and a firm belly. I do not want to give that up and I do not want to give up the image of Marci as youthful and vivacious, the image I have come here to find. But she is vivacious. She is more. She is everything I have ever imagined in a woman: funny, smart, wild, sensual, sexy, uninhibited, fierce, and I know she could love me as deeply as I have always dreamed to be loved. Her body is just older than I had been led to believe, but her spirit is not. I look at her face for a long while as we lie together in front of the flickering screen. What is it that I am really after? Do I really care how she is labeled in years? Do the folds and creases of her skin make any difference? I have tried to believe that youth and physical beauty mean nothing to me but I have never been put to the test, not like this. And there is the lie. Is the photo taken two years ago of her untrue? The mis-statement about her age, did any of this really matter to me or is this the poison seed that will only later destroy us? Is there something in me that provokes my sadness, my feeling of being far from home, of being alone, or would this unease would have appeared under any circumstance? But this day has felt so magical and complete that I do not want to think anymore or ponder or even understand. I only want to curl around her and touch her until she cannot stand it anymore. And then touch her again. We end our day making love, fall asleep, and then continue when we wake up.
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