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inquiet (via Arthur)

His profile picture showed his silhouette walking on the beach.
“Who is Arthur?” I sent a PM late on a boring Saturday evening, on March 13 a year ago.

My profile picture showed my face, eyes smiling.
“I am the one who kills the naivety in your eyes and replace it with knowledge” he responded…

Right….

He had no idea the fire was he playing with, and when he realised what kind of fire he was playing with, he decided to burn himself. So did I -and for a year now, we are still licking each other burns.

T’estimo, amor.

Det var ikke helt slik som på bildet, men nesten. Jeg fortalte i resepsjonen når jeg ringte at formålet med oppholdet, var sex. De ga meg rom med en king size-seng uten glippe mellom madrassene. Ellers var det slik som her.

Jeg har kvitteringen liggende fremdeles, det er fremdeles mulig å lese hva som står på den, selv om den har vært med på et par flyttelass, krøllet nederst i ei bukselomme noen ganger. Jeg fortalte Vanilla at det var mitt livs beste investering, og at kvitteringen skal rammes inn.

Vi skulle gjøre det vi kom for å gjøre, så skulle hun reise hjem igjen dagen etter, og ferdig med det. Vi gjorde det, så gikk vi ned til en sen middag. Mennene i restauranten stirret på henne. Så kikket de på meg. Så gikk vi opp og gjorde det vi kom for å gjøre igjen, sovnet før frokost, bare et par timer på morrakvisten. Mennene i restauranten kikket igjen. Jeg kunne ikke holde hender og blikk unna henne. My skin knows your skin. Jeg glemmer aldri at hun sa det.

Der var et preludium, ikke der og da, for da var det rett på – men før hotellet. Det hender vi ler av det, det hender hun leser opp noen fraser av uhyrligheter og forteller hvor full av det jeg var. Jeg var full av det et sted der man kan være hvem man vil være, til man for eksempel møtes IRL fordi man ønsker å finne ut hva dette er, og hvis det ikke er noe – så kan man ta en kaffekopp, en bourbon istedenfor, men så var det noe.

Hun besnæret meg lenge før jeg traff henne.

Jeg var i tvil om jeg skulle akseptere hennes invitasjon. Hun var ikke full av det, hun var rett på i en slik grad at jeg tvilte i tjue minutter før jeg svarte ja. Det var nytt for meg, det var eventyr, så det tok disse tjue minuttene å bestemme meg for at eventyr var akkurat det jeg ville.

Etter frokost, da hun satt i avgangshallen og jeg fløy lavt på E6 mot Oslo… hele den dagen, en fredag… Noen ganger går vi de veiene sammen og snakker om det, de gangene vi treffes.

Så vakker du er, sier jeg og hun svarer gracies amor, og ordene mine beskriver ikke hvor vakker hun er. Du er stolt av meg, sier hun når vi er ute blant folk, og jeg smiler og sier ja. Hun ser i øynene mine hvor vakker hun er. Er det dette? Å bli sett på slik, være elsket akkurat sånn, og så denne gjensidig lidenskapen?  Er det fordi vi har ferie fra hverdag, at hun – hver gang når – er bare kvinnen, og jeg bare hann?

Jeg tatoverte North på underarmen i sommer, med serifer. Jeg er syvogførr. Nå er det ikke mitt mål å kjede noen, men jeg er altså syvogførr og hartatovert North på underarmen i sommer. Er det mulig å si noe om hvorfor uten at det oppleves som pinlig? Man skal skrive sabla bra for å unngå klisjéer.

Hun klarer alt alene. Hun trenger ikke fast følge. You are my second win, sier hun, og når hun sier at jeg er hennes second win, så kikker jeg inn i øynene hennes, og jeg vet at hun mener det. Det tar meg ett år å finne ut at det ikke er second win, men second wind, det første draget med luft du trekker etter å ha mistet pusten.

Jeg mistenker at hun leker med tanken om noe mer. Jeg leker selv med tanken. Det er noe så banalt som å være der andre ganger også, kunne legge nesen et sted bak, mellom øret og hårfestet, fylle lungene med fred, og la det strømme ut i blodbanene og opp i belønningssentralen som sitter inne i hodet et sted. Det er å kunne si slapp av nå, elskede, jeg tar det – hvil nå! Det er noe egoistisk i handlingen og samtidig ikke, og det er dette vi sier vi egentlig ikke vil, men jeg innrømmer det lett nå, at det ikke alltid kjennes tilstrekkelig å bare leke kyss, klapp og klem et par ganger i måneden.

Det får holde inntil videre. Det har gått ett år, sier jeg til henne og fortsetter med å si at jeg gleder meg til det har gått to, men at vi får ta en ting om gangen. Det er smart, svarer hun, å ta en ting om gangen. Jeg bekrefter og gleder meg stille til det har gått tre år også. Det blir ikke alltid som på de bildene vi skaper oss, men jeg liker å henge opp en og annen mentalt photoshoppet idè som et ideal. Det blir sjelden helt slik, men nesten holder.

4 Comments Post a comment
  1. His response, “I am the one who kills the naivety in your eyes and replace it with knowledge”. Oh wow. Keep that fire burning! 😉

    March 9, 2011
  2. Arthur Park #

    Google translate is close, but not in a litterary way.

    It was not quite like the picture, but almost. I told the front desk when I called that the purpose of the stay, was sex. They gave me a room with a king-size bed with no slip between the mattresses. Otherwise it was like in the picture.

    I have the receipt lying still, it’s still possible to read what’s on it, although it has been on a couple of moving loads, curled at the bottom of a trouser pocket sometimes. I told Vanillab that it was my life’s best investment, and that receipt shall be framed.

    We should do what we came there to do, so she would return home the following day, and that’s it. We did what we came there to do, and then we went down to a late dinner. The men in the restaurant stared at her. They only looked at me. So we went up and did what we came to do once again, we fell asleep a couple of before breakfast. The men in the restaurant stared again. She looked awesome. I could not keep my hands away from her, nor my eyes.

    My skin Knows your skin. I’ll never forget that she said it.

    There was a prelude, not then and there, because there it was right on – but a prelude before the hotel. Sometimes we laugh at it, sometimes she reads a few phrases of atrocities and tell how full of it I was. I was full of it somewhere where you can be who you want to be, to, for example, meet IRL because you want to find out what this is and if there is something – you can take a coffee cup, a bourbon instead, but it was something.

    She imntrigued me long before I met her.

    I doubted if I should accept her invitation. She was not full of it, as I was. She was entitled to such an extent that I doubted for twenty minutes before I said yes. It was new to me, it was adventure, so it took them twenty minutes to decide that the adventure was just what I wanted.

    After breakfast, when she sat in the departure hall and I was flying low on the E6 towards Oslo … the whole day, a Friday … Sometimes we walk that road together, talk about it. Laugh.

    How beautiful you are, I say and she responds gracias amor, and my words do not describe how beautiful she is. You are proud of me, she says when we’re out in public, and I smile and say yes I’m proud of you. She can see in my eyes how beautiful she is.

    Is it this? To be seen to be loved just like that, then this mutual passion? Is it because we have a vacation from everyday life, that she – every time when – is woman only, and I just a male?

    I have North tattooed on the forearm. I’m fourtyseven. Now it’s not my goal to bore anyone, but I am thus fourtyseven and had North tattooed on the forearm this summer. Is it possible to say something about why unless it is perceived as embarrassing? You should write bloody well to avoid clichés.

    She manages all alone. She does not need regular follow. You are my second win, she says, and when she says I’m her second win, I look into her eyes, and I know she means it. I suspect that she is playing with the idea of ​​something more. I do. There is something so banal as to be there at other times, too, be able to put my nose somewhere behind, between the ear and hairline, filling my lungs with peace, and let it flow into the bloodstream and into the reward center that sits inside your head somewhere. It is to say relax now, darling, I’ll take it – rest now! There is something selfish in action and at the same time not, and this is what we say we really do not want to, but I admit it with ease, it is not always enough just to play kiss, pat and squeeze a few times a month.

    It will keep indefinitely. It’s been one year, I say to her and goes on to say that I am looking forward to it has been two, but that we get to take one thing at a time. It’s smart, she replies, to take one thing at a time. I confirm and wait quietly until it has been three years also. It is not always like the images we create ourselves, but I like to hang up a mantally photoshopped image as an ideal. It is rarely clear-cut, but almost is enough.

    March 11, 2011
  3. Dan #

    On first sight I read “we are still licking each other bums.” Is that a bad sign?

    April 21, 2011
    • Arthur Park #

      When was rimming wrong? 🙂

      April 22, 2011

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