Dating your mom
Later, I went up to the front of the crowd to enjoy the last band. He said something to me along the lines of “My friend wanted to know who I was flirting with and I was like: ‘Oh, that’s just Mama Bear’ and she was like, ‘THAT’S Mama Bear? Driving to the small airport, we conversed about passionate living and friendship. His favorite, he edited “for your grandchildren” he said. But one day we chanced to be at a show together and I met a bunch of his friends. His head was back, and he was half-grinning and looking at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life. The rest of the scene faded out and I was visually, olfactorily and physically fixated on his undomesticated presence. We chatted about the possibility of our death by airplane crash over sparkling water. He snapped about a hundred pictures of me on my phone with the airplane against an orange-pink sky. I now have the souvenirs of this experience, great photos that he later that evening, spent some time cropping and filtering to just how he liked them. And he has other lovely qualities: he’s fetching, he’s passionate for life, and he’s great with his dog. A little background on how my nicknames for him evolved: ‘The Centaur’ was coined by a mutual friend one night, after this undomesticated man-person had stomped around at a party in only cowboy boots and sparkly spandex. He’s not looking for anything committed or serious. Plus, he’d been a legitimate pilot for twenty years. First, he performed what appeared to be a quite serious safety inspection of the very sexy airplane he’d restored to mint condition over a decade with his dad and best friends. That quality certainly keeps my walls up, which is kinda just the way I want it right now. I decided it was time and told him about how we call him the Centaur. “I like it,” he said with a grin as the band started to play and we began to dance again. ‘Wild Animal Man’ came from another friend who exclaimed that he was a wild animal when I recounted to her how he’d curled up one weeknight right on my front porch and fell asleep, snoring like an bear, feet sticking eighteen inches off the porch furniture. I like it so much I almost want to trade out the name Molly Undercover for it! When The Centaur moves on, as I’m sure he will sooner or later, I’ve decided I get to keep this nickname. He’s an artist, poet and musician with a confident swagger, broad shoulders, and green-blue-brown eyes. Our casual arrangement was not the type of thing that progresses to a more serious relationship. He was gazing at me with a goofy look on his usually distant face. “Even if someone beautiful wasn’t about to come over I’d [want to look good]. His artwork, books, musical instruments, and antique furniture filled the high-ceilinged rooms. If that conversation had been the whole date, it would have been a dream in itself! We rolled her out to the open field beside the runway.
Back at his apartment, there was just enough red wine and good lighting. He played guitar; he sang songs I didn’t know, too, with gusto.
I hopped out, full of adrenaline and blissed out and started dancing.