(no subject)
It has been a long while since i have wrote anything but i thought of this on my way to work this morning:
Before you go on. i must tell you something that happened just the other night. i was out with him and we were bored. We some how found ourselves at a book store and looking at some magazines. You know how much he loves to look at the tattoo magazines. "The girls in these magazines are always horrendous" he mutters and looks on anyway. i remember it so clearly. i was standing over his left shoulder as he skimmed through the pages of a rather thick magazine. i am not even sure it was strictly tattoos, but, perhaps just an alternative lifestyle magazine. He would flip through it until he found a picture of a girl. Just page after page as though he had some kind of model detector... i mean he barely glimpsed. When he did come across one, he would gaze at the image and look at it up and down as he would point out what he liked and disliked about each one. Stars, how that gets me so upset. Some times i wonder if he does this to me, you know? Does he sit there and think to himself "gee i don't really like this" and "that is okay though."
So he is flipping page after page and then we get to one particular page that i will never forget. It seemed like slow motion, but the exact opposite at the same time. He flips open the page and almost as immediately as i realized it looked like someone familiar, i realized who it looked like and i quickly shifted my focus onto him. His eyes had this quick twinkle as he just stared their for such a brief moment. Not even a second. He just went to the next page. No words. No criticism. It was as if nothing was there. It was like all the other pages we had just whizzed by. What was he thinking? i wanted to know. i know he was thinking the same thing that i was; "wow it looks just like...". He had to have. Almost as though he had just opened her bedroom door slightly while she was sleeping with the intention of softly saying "goodnight" but, not being able to find the words, he closes the bedroom door and continues on. Into the dark.
We never ever talked about it. We just continued on with our night as though nothing had ever happened.
Before you go on. i must tell you something that happened just the other night. i was out with him and we were bored. We some how found ourselves at a book store and looking at some magazines. You know how much he loves to look at the tattoo magazines. "The girls in these magazines are always horrendous" he mutters and looks on anyway. i remember it so clearly. i was standing over his left shoulder as he skimmed through the pages of a rather thick magazine. i am not even sure it was strictly tattoos, but, perhaps just an alternative lifestyle magazine. He would flip through it until he found a picture of a girl. Just page after page as though he had some kind of model detector... i mean he barely glimpsed. When he did come across one, he would gaze at the image and look at it up and down as he would point out what he liked and disliked about each one. Stars, how that gets me so upset. Some times i wonder if he does this to me, you know? Does he sit there and think to himself "gee i don't really like this" and "that is okay though."
So he is flipping page after page and then we get to one particular page that i will never forget. It seemed like slow motion, but the exact opposite at the same time. He flips open the page and almost as immediately as i realized it looked like someone familiar, i realized who it looked like and i quickly shifted my focus onto him. His eyes had this quick twinkle as he just stared their for such a brief moment. Not even a second. He just went to the next page. No words. No criticism. It was as if nothing was there. It was like all the other pages we had just whizzed by. What was he thinking? i wanted to know. i know he was thinking the same thing that i was; "wow it looks just like...". He had to have. Almost as though he had just opened her bedroom door slightly while she was sleeping with the intention of softly saying "goodnight" but, not being able to find the words, he closes the bedroom door and continues on. Into the dark.
We never ever talked about it. We just continued on with our night as though nothing had ever happened.