Houseguests are like fish, after three days they begin to smell. Is that how that goes? And what kind of fish? What sort of houseguest? There would seem to be more variables here than tuna and the occupant of the extra bedroom. What about three weeks rather than three days? Because that's what I experienced this summer. A houseguest. For one week in July and nearly half of August, which would add up to three weeks. And if he began to smell like fish, well, that would explain why the cats took to him. John was here doing archival research at the library at SDSU. Which means for hours each day he was delving into near-century-old periodicals mining them for information for a book he is writing. He is pretty low maintenance, and he showers daily. Meaning that he did not begin to smell, at least not in a literal sense. And in the two weeks since he has returned home, I have realized something. That I miss having another adult in the house. The companionable presence of a grown-up. To watch a movie with, share a bottle of wine. Go out for dinner, or to visit friends, or meet other adults for over-21 beverages. I had forgotten what that is like. Nothing fills up your life quite like a significant other. Not kids, not work, not girlfriends. Not pets, not hobbies, not even fabulous shoes. For three weeks I had a glimpse into a world that had become foreign to me. I have wondered of late if I have become less generous or if I have simply been single too long to tolerate the near constant proximity of a man. The anticipation of so much time together made me feel a little ambivalent. I've grown into solitary new habits and I like having my space and quiet. But it turned out to be fun. Enjoyable even. But as much as I enjoyed it, I realize I'm not desperate enough to jump into being a couple with just anybody. Not that jumping into it with John would be desperate, he's not just anybody. We dated a couple of years ago and for various reasons, it didn't work out. But in the process we discovered we really do like each other and have remained friends. And friendship is valuable. Especially when it still smells good after spending three weeks together. What did you do this summer?
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5 comments:
Century old periodicals. Do they smell? Adults can be fun, 'specially when they have different body parts than the ones you have.
They are very dusty and crumbly rather than smelly.
Did I say anything about that kind of fun, Ed?
Not that I noticed, however, I did.
Crumbly? They're not DVDs?
I seem to remember really, really enjoying that kind of fun.
And, no, they're not DVDs. They're some sort of paper-like substance. Old, crumbly, dusty paper-like substance.
Worked a lot, drank a lot.
Flew to Australia for a month.
The usual.
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