1:29 a.m. - 2002-02-17
Shade
What is it like to foot wrestle at four in the morning, under cover of thinly stitched cotton blankets and darkness? Perhaps it�s a halfhearted affair, muted by drowsiness or the tranquility that inevitably occurs when you are in the familiarity of your own bed. Maybe it is completely accidental, a chance meeting between two strange ankles, vying for comforter seniority. It could be an act of sensuality, a sly maneuvering of toenails sliding upward: an invitation to wrestle with things other than feet.
And that whole concept of full body �wrestling�� what is that like, nowadays? Is it sweaty, tumbling; impatiently yanking at sheets to clear a path for skin sliding on skin? Is it languid, hushed; exploring joints and openings and vast expanses of skin: a lesson in unique anatomy and textures? Is it awkward, familiar; do you think about the strange contortions of your body in the shadows and light? Do you even think at all?
Is the first kiss memorable? Is it unexpected, mouths not quite meshing, lips pressed against a bit of cheekbone or chin before automatically righting themselves or pulling away? Can you taste the tinges of minty freshness on the tip of someone else�s tongue; are there fingerpads resting on your cheek or jawline?
Would someone please clue me in? Sadly, it seems I seem to be lacking personal knowledge of the aforementioned events these days. Once, my mother told me something about pregnancy: when you are in such a state, pregnant women start crawling out of the proverbial woodwork. They are everywhere; smiling serenely at the health food store, toddling along with mewling kids in tow at the local galleria. I wouldn�t have been surprised if she told me she had spied one in the neighborhood sex toy shop. The point being, once you are with child, you notice everyone else who is, too. Once you are without intimacy, however, it is the exact opposite.
You see it everywhere. Love, lust and every shade in between. So yes, someone remind me:
What is it like?
