struggling...not...to...analyze...
Nov. 7th, 2004 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missroseroseIn the spirit of my recent lessons about trying to live in the moment more and not be constantly analyzing everything, I'm trying something a bit different from normal.
And so, instead of the usual blow-by-blow rundown, I'll just put down:
Things I Don't Want to Forget About Last Night
--The lovely anticipation of an hour-long girly-make-up session
--The phrase "A man who just had a squirrel run up his pants"
--The look of embarrassment, apprehension, and wry amusement on Brian's face (and probably mine) as we both realize we are in waaay over our heads
--Said look being repeated as we try to find some way to make a graceful exit
--The general feeling of rueful relief as we head to the car
--The sight and sound of a 400-pound professionally trained opera singer
--Seeing my middle-aged music teacher in the role of a narcissistic 16-year-old girl, complete with pastel bedroom set
--The sight of three of the lead characters with glued-on pink cheek patches and herky-jerky marionette motions, all the while with visions of Chicago running through our heads
--The enjoyment of seeing a production where the actors are having so much fun
--The heightened enjoyment of seeing how much Brian enjoyed the same production
--All the compliments on our nice clothes
--Being the first couple up dancing to the jazz band at the dance afterwards
--Wondering what it is with Brian that he's the first fairly straight-laced guy I've ever taken out who would willingly dance without a few drinks in him
--The various looks we gave each other all night
--The snarky comments we gave each other about said looks ("You can't look at me like that right now. You haven't had any champagne yet.")
--The taste of combined Brut Rose champagne and Costco truffles
--The sheer satisfaction of spending a couple of hours just sitting at a table and talking about everything and nothing
--The fun of trying to dance when one is tipsy
--The almost-satisfaction of having the question answered of how one can *not* have a sense of rhythm (alcohol tends to affect this)
--Spending half an hour reading The Phantom Tollbooth to an enjoying but increasingly-sleepy Brian
--Singing "Begin the Beguine" out into the dark
--Lying half-awake a few hours later, thinking about this and that, and hearing a small voice on the other side of the bed say, "Penny for your thoughts?"
--Discussing things that I'm afraid to talk about with anyone, but it being somehow okay because it's five in the morning
--Watching it slowly get light outside
--Going out for a spur-of-the-moment 7:30 AM hike along the trail at the end of the road
--The look of sheer sublime awe on Brian's face as he sees the waterfall out there
--Spending half an hour just staring at the water
--Breakfast a little later, laughing at Brian's classic tousled-morning-after look
--The sheer gratification of knowing that I can behave myself around someone that I'm attracted to
--The odd sort of happiness that comes from actually getting to know someone that you have a lot in common with...
And so, instead of the usual blow-by-blow rundown, I'll just put down:
Things I Don't Want to Forget About Last Night
--The lovely anticipation of an hour-long girly-make-up session
--The phrase "A man who just had a squirrel run up his pants"
--The look of embarrassment, apprehension, and wry amusement on Brian's face (and probably mine) as we both realize we are in waaay over our heads
--Said look being repeated as we try to find some way to make a graceful exit
--The general feeling of rueful relief as we head to the car
--The sight and sound of a 400-pound professionally trained opera singer
--Seeing my middle-aged music teacher in the role of a narcissistic 16-year-old girl, complete with pastel bedroom set
--The sight of three of the lead characters with glued-on pink cheek patches and herky-jerky marionette motions, all the while with visions of Chicago running through our heads
--The enjoyment of seeing a production where the actors are having so much fun
--The heightened enjoyment of seeing how much Brian enjoyed the same production
--All the compliments on our nice clothes
--Being the first couple up dancing to the jazz band at the dance afterwards
--Wondering what it is with Brian that he's the first fairly straight-laced guy I've ever taken out who would willingly dance without a few drinks in him
--The various looks we gave each other all night
--The snarky comments we gave each other about said looks ("You can't look at me like that right now. You haven't had any champagne yet.")
--The taste of combined Brut Rose champagne and Costco truffles
--The sheer satisfaction of spending a couple of hours just sitting at a table and talking about everything and nothing
--The fun of trying to dance when one is tipsy
--The almost-satisfaction of having the question answered of how one can *not* have a sense of rhythm (alcohol tends to affect this)
--Spending half an hour reading The Phantom Tollbooth to an enjoying but increasingly-sleepy Brian
--Singing "Begin the Beguine" out into the dark
--Lying half-awake a few hours later, thinking about this and that, and hearing a small voice on the other side of the bed say, "Penny for your thoughts?"
--Discussing things that I'm afraid to talk about with anyone, but it being somehow okay because it's five in the morning
--Watching it slowly get light outside
--Going out for a spur-of-the-moment 7:30 AM hike along the trail at the end of the road
--The look of sheer sublime awe on Brian's face as he sees the waterfall out there
--Spending half an hour just staring at the water
--Breakfast a little later, laughing at Brian's classic tousled-morning-after look
--The sheer gratification of knowing that I can behave myself around someone that I'm attracted to
--The odd sort of happiness that comes from actually getting to know someone that you have a lot in common with...
