And ah, there’s music.
And then, there’s the dance we do.
So, if you wouldn’t mind –
Dance with me please. But before you do, just know what this means before you say yes.
There’s a way to slow dance and hold someone close, at least I think there is.
I do this as if the lights shut off around the world and if I you close your eyes and pull this person in nice and close, you can place your lips at the side of their neck and smell the essence of their skin.
Well, at least this is from my perspective.
As for you – perhaps the neck would be yours.
I love this.
I love the idea of nice, long, slow dances in places like at an outdoor festival of a small, unknown town where everyone stops to say hello and the town feast is made of events, such as pie eating contests and bake sales that come with foods that are better eaten, right there on the spot, because everything is so good.
I think about this . . .
I think about the nighttime and the ending of an evening, which has been nothing short of good fun and the wholesomeness of a small town.
The kids were all smiling. Everyone is happy and before the lights go down for the last dance, I think about a slow country waltz, which is not my choice of music – but it is for now
I think about lights that are strung across patios or from tree to tree in places like the town’s square. I think about the end of the day and the empty cotton candy machine and the popcorn and, of course, all the candy apples are gone because every kid had at least one (or two).
I think about a tall glass of country-style lemonade.
I think about the moonlight and the stars above.
Then I think about that slow, country waltz. Ah yes.
I think about that nice slow dance which is loving and pure and of course – she is beautiful to me and unmatchable by anyone else.
She is soft and gentle, like the kind of body that one could hold onto forever and still be hungry for more.
I think about the easy or delicate wind and the loving breeze that flows across that small, unknown town, and me – I am alive in such a brand new way.
I am alive because, of course, I am in love!
I want a dance like this.
In fact, I want this so badly that I am marking this on my list.
I have come here to make this official.
I want to create this and recreate this scenario again in more places than one. And yes, while on my countrywide adventure for the best bowl of soup and the best slice of pecan pie, or a peach cobbler, or an apple pie – I want to find a town so quaint and so loving, so peaceful, and so welcoming that the name of this town is not only etched in my mind but etched in my heart as well.
But wait . . .
Then there’s swing and salsa dances too. Now the volume goes up and so does the heat and its intensity.
Then there’s the dance, which picks up speed and as well. The heat of the matter is burning my heart in such a way that the sexual energy is out of this world.
And her?
Do you have to ask?
Because if she is you and you are her – then please, allow me to go on.
She (or you) is equally hot and equally soft and equally teasing because in the heat of the dance, I find myself pulling her closely and connecting in such a way which is beyond kinetic, which is beyond cosmic and even beyond the sexual pulse of our skin against skin. This is out of this world
And so is she . . .
(I mean . . . You!)
Our body’s heat is wet and sweaty and wild as ever.
It’s too much, yet nothing is enough because as the beat pumps and as the bands play or as the drums beat and as the songs take us over and overwhelm the senses – our bodies move and all I can think about is the aftermath and the wildness. What I mean is, I’m thinking about what will take place no sooner than the door closes behind us.
Which means: IT’S ON!
This too –
This is an item on my list. To experience the dance and the sensational heat and explore the body of love in all of its entirety and with its wild intensity – orgasmic as ever, screaming out loud in ecstasy because “Who cares?”
Who cares who can hear us – or even see?
Let them hear or let them see. That’s what I say.
Let them be jealous.
Let them come up with their own bucket list.
Let them put in the work to strike the items off, one piece at a time.
I have another item up for discussion. And this one is another achievable mark – or, at least this is to me.
I want to face the waves. What I mean is, I want to face the ocean and have the sun beat down on my face. I want to hear music in the background, almost like something that comes from the islands and so internally; whenever we hear music like this, one could associate this sound with memory and connect this to palm trees and white-sand beaches, a hammock between the palms, turquoise blue water, steel drums ringing their mellow tunes to make us smile, and a cold drink, maybe from a coconut with a triangle slice of pineapple and one of those little umbrellas poking out from the top of the drink.
How’d that be?
This too –
This is filled with so much energy. This is filled with the wild escapades of romance and the heat of sexual buildup which is perfect after a day on the beach.
Imagine?
The sun beats down on our skin, browning our bodies and the oil on your legs and stomach is shimmering beneath the sun.
This is all just another enticement which makes us want to go back to “the room” and no sooner than the door shuts behind us, our bodies connect or collide or crash.
We move together in an uproar of sexual tension which is at last about to break.
This is an item of mine.
But ah, then the nighttime comes and then there’s the need for another slow dance.
Then there’s a redo or a do-over which I am waiting for.
It’s a dance. But not just any dance.
I think of the song “Just When I Needed You.”
I heard this song as a kid and thought to myself – This must be what love feels like.
And I agree. I still think it must be what true love feels like.
Yes, the song is a personal one and so is the reason for this dance.
I never had a prom. I never rented a limo or went out dancing like this.
Not once. Never in my life.
Hence, this is why I am posting what I am posting today.
I am making this official.
I am placing this on my list because while the option of making it to my senior prom is no longer an option at all –
I have the right to recreate a moment.
I have the need to recreate a wish, and yes – essentially, I want to ask the girl of my dreams if and when this can happen –
Will you go to the prom with me?
As in my prom . . .
As in my recreation which means this is a replacement memory to avenge the loss of a youthful rite of passage, to which I can officially excuse and forgive and remove the “Never have I ever” moment and replace it with – yeah, I might not have done that – but I did this.
I slow danced with the love of my life, soft and sweet and beautiful as ever.
She is the most beautiful girl in the world.
(And she is with me)
Her hair will be everywhere, which is not to quote a song with a similar lyric.
But instead, this is written with one intention and one intention only.
I want to remove the regrets by replacing them with livable, lovable and enjoyable moments.
I want to create occasions that redeem us all and recharge our internal youth.
I want to make us wild enough to know (once more) what it means to be “a kid” and be so crazy that we could stop right now and make love anywhere –
as in everywhere, as in even right here (if you’re up to it).
I admit to being a hopeless romantic. I always have been. I’ve always believed in this, even through my struggles. Although I admit that I never dared to show this side of me, I admit that I never wanted to be so exposed or vulnerable because fear had me turn inwards – or turn away because I was afraid that while I believed and while I was hopeless and helplessly falling in love – I was afraid of a love that comes unreturned or that eventually, her love for me would fade and then I would be left unloved or wanting.
But not anymore.
I say fuck that fear.
I say fuck it all.
I say please, come with me.
Let’s go find those towns and fnd those places where they have the greatest bowls of soup or the best slices of pie.
Let’s do the dances.
Let’s see the world through each other’s eyes.
And if we can . . . or, if it’s not too much trouble –
Please . . . save me a slow dance at the end of the night so that I can place my lips at your neck and smell the essence of your skin.
I want to inhale you because I fought a long time to get where I am.
It took me over five decades of living to be this brave – to tell you how I feel or to ask you to dance like this (or to ask if you would go to the prom with me).
I want to inhale your scent because this is more than just a dance. No, this is one of the biggest items I have on my list.
It’s up there in the top three.
So, that’s why I want to put my face in your neck. Not just to kiss you or taste you or kiss your ear or whisper how I want you.
No, this is so I inhale the moment and keep it within my heart because at my last hour – this is the item I want to go over and relive – just before I go.
“Just when I needed you . . .
. . . you had your arms around my life.”
I agree with Roberta Flack.
She knows what love looks like.
Somebody gave me you . .
. . . when I needed you.
There is no item on my list that is more precious than this one
So, dance with me please . . .
If you choose this or if you choose me and you choose to say yes –
Just know that you are it for the rest of eternity
With me (if you’ll have me)
forever ~
The Written Addiction 