All I Want Is You

3:30 am Friday. It turned out to be a good Thursday night at the club. The bossman came into town and stayed a little. When he saw that at the end of the night I was going ahead with counting the money and putting things up he took off. I counted the money, grabbed my liquor inventory sheet with tomorrow’s order, and locked up the club and came home. The dog at the storage units next door ran a coon through the fence. The coon climbed up the fence to the section with barbed wire. It was sitting there when I drove off in the car. I believe it might be stuck in the fence, but I know better than to mess with a coon.

Thursday, the 22nd. I had gotten a text message from Eliza during noon saying that she was going to get a phone card tonight (she is in Hawaii). I kept my phone with me every second in case she called. I sent her a couple text messages, one saying that I missed her, another commenting that tomorrow was a month for us, and another telling her that I wanted to feel my arms around her and her body around me. I was sitting in the DJ booth and I noticed a slight oddity in the sound, like a feedback. I figured out that it was the cell phone. Eliza was calling me and I talked to her for 15 minutes. She was loving Hawaii and thought that it was the most beautiful place! She said that at one point the beauty of it all made her want to cry. A kindred heart. She told me of her plans during her trip and how she wanted to call me, how another girl had called her boyfriend three times already on the first day and everyone was making fun of her (it is a wedding gathering). I told her that I missed her a lot, missed her immensely, but that I wanted her to have fun and not to feel like she had to hunt down a phone to call me. I’ll see her Sunday morning when she flies back home. She commented that she wasn’t calling me only for my own good, but for hers as well. That put a big ol’ smile on my face when she said that! Several times one of us would make an “Awww” sound, as if we wanted to reach through the telephone line and draw the other closer, but realizing that we couldn’t feel the other one’s touch and so the “awwww” sound would escape our lips. A few times we did this simultaneously. I don’t know how many times I’ve looked at a picture that I took while we were lying on my bed. I had stretched my arm out while holding the camera and had lined up the camera angle to get our faces… then we kissed a long kiss and I snapped the picture. I’ve looked that picture over a billion times since yesterday.

The night is over and I am home now. U2 plays over the stereo and Pandora is playing with a clothing tag. I had went to the store and bought some more clothes. I didn’t need to spend the money but I felt compelled to. Eliza is so neatly dressed, even when she is dressed casually, that I more often than not feel out of place around her. Here is this woman of incredible beauty and grace (even when she trips or turns into a corner) and I am wearing old shirts and such. So I bought a couple more items to try and update my wardrobe a little. Last week I got a haircut and yesterday I bought a package of tanning appointments at the gym. Whenever we take a shower together or are lying in bed with the lights on (and we are usually naked) her gorgeous body makes mine look so very pale as to look odd. Now that she’s in Hawaii for a few days she’ll be darker when she comes home. I’ll get one or two appointments done before I see her, but over a week I should remedy a lot of this disparate skin tones.

It is now Friday the 23rd and this marks one month since she came to my apartment the second time. The first time she came over we had shared a cab and she grabbed my hand in the cab and walked me to my apartment and we kissed a little. The second night she came over she had spent the night with me, the first of many nights we’ve spent together. One month and I still feel like we’ve just started seeing each other. The progression of emotions, the deepening of my feelings for her, is unique. I have a lot of baggage, she says that she has a lot of baggage, everyone has baggage… but so far I can’t really think of any situation, any conversation, any instance, any correspondence between us, any exchange, any actions between us where it seems that emotional baggage is at work. To be sure our own personal histories account for large parts of our behavior. When I speak of emotional baggage having influence I mean this in a negative understanding, of the failure of a person to come to terms with a biographical occurence or emotional state and this event affecting an unconnected even in the present. Many times she has impressed me with her ability to communicate, her clarity of perception in her own emotional workings, and her understanding of where I am coming from. Every day with her I am struck by something she says, am given pause by some insight, smile in agreement with a philosophical expression, catch my breath at her beauty, feel tingly when I kiss her. Of the 30 days we’ve been together, I’ve kissed her about 28 of them and every kiss is just as wonderful as the first one. I never tire of kissing her. I never tire of holding her hand, of running my hands across her body, of soaking in her smile, of sleeping with her.

We’ve made it a month. She’s told me that she is pushing the date she is going to move home to Eastern Oregon back another month. I am glad to be able to spend more time with her before she leaves for 3-6 months. After 30 days this relationship feels remarkable to me. It isn’t something that I need, a statement I feel I can truthfully and honestly say (for I’ve finally come into my own and have learned to love and appreciate life alone and by myself), but this relationship has opened up a great and wide world to me. It is like having a small stereo and listening to Beethoven on it, loving the music very much and enjoying it immensely, until one day you are given a large and expensive stereo with rich sound. You still listen to Beethoven and you don’t love Beethoven any more than before, but you are now experiencing dimensions of sound that you’ve not experienced before and that is the part that you love.

It is now 4:00 and tomorrow I will get up and hit the gym, go to work and grab some papers, and also try to get the Isuzu. I hope to get it tomorrow. I can imagine loading it up with fly rods, a tent, sleeping bags and food and Eliza in the front seat with me and our driving out into the backcountry. I want to make love to her under the stars out in the wilderness. She agrees with me completely in that camping is not camping if it is in a parking lot next to your car where everyone shares a shower in the middle of the lot. Camping should be out in the forest, someplace away from others, someplace where there is no road, where you have to hike to get to.

What a woman.

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