As an alternative to KC Coconut, the wines and spirits guy suggested OPM Vodka. I thought why not. I may as well try something new.
Now, my movements are slow, lethargic and a happy fog clouds my find. I am drunk. I hate the vodka but I do not want to stop. I love the feelings I have now. I will hate the feelings I will have tomorrow.
We are in my bedroom. The sun feels beautiful on my skin. She is at the edge of the bed as if scared to take up space. It must be my breath which is offputting. It could be something more. We are not that close. Her boundaries are wide and her walls are high. We are talking. I am talking and she is listening. Narrowed eyes and a playful smile colour her face with amusement.
I smile at her often. I find myself doing this with her more than with most people. I imagine I look like a wolf. She laughs back. I tell her I have a beautiful smile, as does she. Her smile turns mysterious and is then gone. A quick flash of teeth and a movement of lips into a moue of contemplation. I never know what she is thinking. She is inscrutable and she slightly intimidates me.
She guards herself and lately it has been irking me. I find myself petty and refusing to engage her as often and as deeply as I used to, only blinking first, as it were because I have conditioned myself to. Refusing to ruin this ethereal moment, while she is with me and not behind a screen, I keep smiling and talking, about my idea of masculinity (how being a stereotypical man does not work for me) and what I think of feminism (in my current state, it mostly consists of men washing dishes).
Sipping my drink, liberally doused with Sprite, I smile wider at her to make her comfortable, rather, to make myself comfortable around her.