storyteller

Apr 22, 2008 00:23

Cassidy calls at just the right times. I curl up on the gaudy blue couch and he parades around my head, Peter Pan in the big city where I left him. It's another adventure story, battling an overbearing mother who didn't appreciate his wedding photography, dresses lifting and beer pouring from mouths. It's classy realism, nontraditional, and a perfect fit.

He is at once a twist of subtle romance and pomp. A bohemian and a business man -- two things he'll have to collide. He questions my every move and yet is entirely protective of me. I would make a killing in the New York bar scene, he says, surviving without losing my saccharine. I've never left Manhattan, but he promises me Brooklyn one day.

It's always banter. Smooth and erotic wordplay. We can't all be like this. I enjoy his reckless abandon. He's makes me feel like me again. Like I have something important to do and say. As for the photos, I try to convince him there's dignity in not dignifying a response. Mothers picture their daughters as brides from the day they are born. It's a business. Everthing's business (except cheese in the park talking of people we've slept with). I tell him he's growing up as an insult. He is a good friend.

cassidy

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