saving you from all those stupid questions, hey did you get some? man that is so dumb...
i found this story on the internet somewhere...it was written by the guy in the story, but unfortunately, he died before he could finish it. i really liked it. it made me wonder why guys couldn't express themselves like this anymore, and why they can't be gentlemen. but it also made me realize how lucky i am.
My name is Robert Donahue. I am 86-years old and the cramping in my wrinkled hands is proof of my old age. My hands, which were once so productive and full of youth, now resemble withered raisins-a disturbing image, but the truth. Throughout my many years of living, I have learned a most important detail of the human being: Humans are afraid of the truth. If truth were staring them directly in the eyes, they would not see it. I have concluded that the human being will do whatever it can to avoid truth, even deny it at times. How can I make such a conclusion, you ask? I shall tell you.
It was 1945 and I had just had my twenty-sixth birthday. With no family or parents left, I was left to celebrating with my closest friends, and some of their friends. The party had taken place at Will Decker’s house, of who was my friend since I was two years old. The party had gone well into the night, and early the next morning. Guests came and went, drank and slept, danced and talked. Around midnight, I saw her walk through the door. She was the most beautiful figure I had ever lain eyes on. I watched as she walked smoothly around the room, almost gliding. I turned to Will and asked if he knew who she was.
“Her? Ah, that there’s Kameron Patterson. Beauty, isn’t she?” he had said. I could not open my mouth to even mumble an agreement. He turned back to his beer and company, sensing my amazement.
I watched her for the rest of the night. I studied her posture, the glow of her skin, the wave of her hair, the every movement of her body. I memorized her image so that later, when I closed my eyes, she would still be there. I would stay a proper distance away, but when she came near, my heart would flutter and my stomach would drop, as if one had skipped a step going down a flight of stairs. As the guests began to leave, she remained, as bright as ever. Finally, I raised enough courage to walk over to her and talk to her. As I approached her, the light scent of her perfume reached my nose, and breathed it in deeply. She smelled like summer, and winter, and good things combined. She turned around just as I approached and immediately flashed a smile.
“Happy Birthday! You probably don’t know me, I came with a friend. I’m Kameron by the way, Kameron Patterson.” I took her outstretched hand, and placed it gently to my lips. She couldn’t help but giggle, and that relaxed me.
“Bobby Donahue, the greatest pleasure in meaning you,” I said with a bow. Again, she giggled and shook my hand. Her laughter was deep, soothing, reassuring. I had never heard a laugh like that before.
“Would you do me the honor, of dancing with me?” I asked politely. She gladly accepted and I led her onto the dance floor. Will, sensing my intentions, changed the record playing to suit my needs. As the beat slowed, I drew her close to me, grasping her small hand in my own. I stared deeply into her eyes. I had never seen eyes like hers before-a startling blue, almost silver. We whispered gently to each other as I turned her about across the floor. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The song had finished and was replaced by a new fast song that I’d heard on the radio for the first time that very same day. We walked to a couch and sat down to continue our conversation. She sat close to me and I could feel the warmth of her skin against my own. We talked about everything-art, music, politics, education, love, life, family. She was amazingly intelligent and even humorous. I had met many girls that summer, but none amounted to what Kameron Patterson was.
Again, all good things must come to an end. Her friend was leaving and Kameron had to leave with her. I walked her to her car where she stood for a moment, twiddling the keys in her hands.
“When can I see you again?” I asked nervously.
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll pick you up at 10:00 a.m. sharp. You’re staying at Lydia Ranson’s house, right?”
“Yes. I’ll see you at 10:00.” And she got in her car and drove away.
I could not sleep that night. Her image floated around in my head all night. When I closed my eyes, she was there. Her laughter continued to echo in my ears, long after our good-bye. Around 6:00, I got out of bed and went downstairs. I made myself breakfast before going outside to paint my weather-damaged porch. I finished the first coat by 8:00, and decided to save the second coat for the next day. I cleaned up my supplies and went inside to shower. I spent several minutes looking through my clothes before deciding upon a plaid shirt and blue jeans. I slipped on my nicest pair of boots and grabbed the keys to the truck on my way out the door.
She was sitting on the front porch reading a book as I pulled up. She looked over the top of her sunglasses and smiled her beautiful smile. She set the book aside as I walked up to her and made space for me to sit on the stair.
“So Mr. Donahue, what do you have planned for us today?” she asked curiously.
“You’ll see.” I held out my hand and she quickly placed hers on my palm. I helped her up and led her over to my truck where I boosted her into the passenger’s seat. As I walked around the back of the truck, I breathed deeply. She was stunning in her pale yellow sun-dress and floppy sun-hat. Her golden hair was tucked neatly into a knot at the base of her neck where here dress was also tied. I started the truck and headed toward the country.
There is a back road that leads to a secret lake in the country. Will and I had discovered it as youths, and named it our own. She stayed curious throughout the trip, asking me where we were going, what we were going to do. Finally, I pulled to a stop in front of a rusted old gate. We got out of the truck. Realizing that she was in a dress, hopping the gate clearly wasn’t an option. Seeing this, she took off her heels and threw them over the gate before stepping carefully on the bottom railing and launching herself over. I stood there in amazement as she picked up her shoes and faced me with a smile. We both laughed and I took her hand once again and led her to the lake.
Earlier that morning, I had stopped by the lake to make sure everything was in order. I set a large blanket on the shore and hid a basket of food under a tree. As we approached, I placed my hands over her eyes explaining that I wanted to surprise her. I could feel her eyelashes tickling my fingers as she smiled and laughed. Finally, I removed my hands and let her take in her surroundings. She gasped at the sight of the vast lake and of the wild flowers surrounding her. She spotted the blanket and walked quickly over to it.
“Why, it’s a picnic blanket!” she exclaimed. I retrieved the basket from under the tree and sat down next to her. I had prepared sandwiches, fruit, dessert, and wine. She held out her glass as I poured her wine and asked for a toast.
“To nature. To love. To truth in every couple.”
“A just toast.” We sipped at our wine and started our sandwiches. All the meanwhile, I could not take my eyes off of her. She had such a beauty and grace about her that she amazed me with every movement. Though her beauty was astonishing, her voice and laugh were calming. Her voice, like her laugh, was deep and smooth. It reminded me of a gentle sea. We spent most of the afternoon by the lake, talking and joking, sitting and observing. Finally, we packed up and headed back to the truck.
The drive home was quiet, both of us appreciating the silence. We arrived Lydia’s house where we sat for a moment before I turned to her.
“Did you have a good time today?”
“Yes!” she said excitedly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, believe me, it was incredible!”
“Alright, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing particular.”
“Would you consider having dinner with me at my house?”
“Of course! What time do you want me over?”
“How about…7:00?”
“Sounds good.” And before she let herself out of the truck, she leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek.
I had finished painting the deck, gave Hamlet, my dog, a bath, and showered, and started dinner as she had driven up. I placed the towel on my shoulder and walked out to meet her. She was wearing a sky-blue sun-dress with a string of pearls that connected in the same place her dress tied. However, her long golden hair was hanging down her back, and it caught the light as she turned and moved. She greeted me with a quick kiss before walking inside.
She was amazed by the old elegance of the house. Carvings and trim lined the walls and fireplace. Rich wood lined the floors, decked with thick rugs here and there. I gave her a quick tour before showing her to the sunroom, where we would be eating our dinner. I left her with a glass of wine and retreated to the kitchen. I came back with chicken, salad, and mashed potatoes-my specialties.
“I’m not the best cook,” I said.
“I think it looks wonderful. Would I lie about something like this?” For some reason, her voice always relaxed me and allowed me to put my faith in her. We dined and wined. After the main course, I brought out an apple pie that my neighbor, Mrs. Copper had made for the occasion. We helped ourselves and sat back feeling extremely full and sleepy when we finished.
“That was excellent,” she said.
“Why thank you.” We conversed a while longer before heading inside to the sitting room. I had started a fire, in front of which she immediately placed herself. I sat down beside her and felt my stomach lurch as her head rested on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head. She snuggled in closer. Our eyes met, but closed as our lips moved closer together, finally touching.
I woke up every morning for the next two weeks with a smile on my face. I woke up knowing that I would see Kameron. Our relationship was growing, blossoming. Summer turned into fall, but Kameron never left the little town. She moved into an apartment, though she spent most of her time at my house. One particular night still remains in my mind, almost as vividly as it had just happened yesterday.
She stopped over after work with no intention of returning to her apartment. She met me on the porch and I could tell something was different about her. Her eyes were flashing in a seductive way and her smile was somewhat vacant. She pulled me out of my chair and pushed me playfully into the house. She ran into the sitting room and wrapped herself in a blanket in front of the fire.
“Are you okay?” I asked with a smile.
“Of course, why?”
“You just seem…different.”
“I’ve just realized something, that’s all.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to say yet.” And I left it at that. Evening faded into night as I sat and listened to her talk breathlessly into my ear. She seemed excited, the kind of excitement a child shows the night before Christmas. She left and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked, quite curiously.
“No occasion, I just want to be with you.” We drank almost the entire bottle in silence before she lay down beneath the blanket. I watched as her eyes slowly, gently closed, and then I watched the flames flicker in the fireplace. It was odd, how the flames danced about each other, cracking and splitting. Almost as if there was no end to them, as if they would crack and split and dance forever. I felt Kameron rustle under the blanket and turned to see her eyes fastened on my own. I leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. We released and she returned with a more passionate kiss. I felt the heat of our bodies in the air around me and the slight breeze of her breath in my ear. And as our eyes met once again, we made a silent agreement.
I watched her as she slept, kissed her eyelids, her face, her shoulders. I watched the reflection of the flames dancing in the sweat beads on her skin. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.
“I love you, Kameron. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every morning with you lying next to me. I want to dine with you every night. I want us to have children together,” I whispered. She nodded and closed her eyes, as if imaging a life with me. Then she smiled.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, I’ve never loved anyone like I do you. Let’s make life together. Kameron, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” I saw a tear form in her eye, but it stayed there. It did not roll down her cheek, or trace the curves of her face. That tear was her honesty, never would it be shed, never wiped away.
Now I suppose you’re wondering where truth comes into play in this story. Well, I’ve only told you the good parts. I’m sure you know by now that all love stories either end tragically, or the lovers live “happily ever after” in their cottage by the sea. A love story should never be taken lightly. Under the sappiness lays a truer meaning, a life lesson if you will. Now, Kameron sounds like a very…truthful…person, wouldn’t you agree? Well, I’ll let you decide if this love story is tragic, or “happily ever after”.
My name is Robert Donahue. I am 86-years old and the cramping in my wrinkled hands is proof of my old age. My hands, which were once so productive and full of youth, now resemble withered raisins-a disturbing image, but the truth. Throughout my many years of living, I have learned a most important detail of the human being: Humans are afraid of the truth. If truth were staring them directly in the eyes, they would not see it. I have concluded that the human being will do whatever it can to avoid truth, even deny it at times. How can I make such a conclusion, you ask? I shall tell you.
It was 1945 and I had just had my twenty-sixth birthday. With no family or parents left, I was left to celebrating with my closest friends, and some of their friends. The party had taken place at Will Decker’s house, of who was my friend since I was two years old. The party had gone well into the night, and early the next morning. Guests came and went, drank and slept, danced and talked. Around midnight, I saw her walk through the door. She was the most beautiful figure I had ever lain eyes on. I watched as she walked smoothly around the room, almost gliding. I turned to Will and asked if he knew who she was.
“Her? Ah, that there’s Kameron Patterson. Beauty, isn’t she?” he had said. I could not open my mouth to even mumble an agreement. He turned back to his beer and company, sensing my amazement.
I watched her for the rest of the night. I studied her posture, the glow of her skin, the wave of her hair, the every movement of her body. I memorized her image so that later, when I closed my eyes, she would still be there. I would stay a proper distance away, but when she came near, my heart would flutter and my stomach would drop, as if one had skipped a step going down a flight of stairs. As the guests began to leave, she remained, as bright as ever. Finally, I raised enough courage to walk over to her and talk to her. As I approached her, the light scent of her perfume reached my nose, and breathed it in deeply. She smelled like summer, and winter, and good things combined. She turned around just as I approached and immediately flashed a smile.
“Happy Birthday! You probably don’t know me, I came with a friend. I’m Kameron by the way, Kameron Patterson.” I took her outstretched hand, and placed it gently to my lips. She couldn’t help but giggle, and that relaxed me.
“Bobby Donahue, the greatest pleasure in meaning you,” I said with a bow. Again, she giggled and shook my hand. Her laughter was deep, soothing, reassuring. I had never heard a laugh like that before.
“Would you do me the honor, of dancing with me?” I asked politely. She gladly accepted and I led her onto the dance floor. Will, sensing my intentions, changed the record playing to suit my needs. As the beat slowed, I drew her close to me, grasping her small hand in my own. I stared deeply into her eyes. I had never seen eyes like hers before-a startling blue, almost silver. We whispered gently to each other as I turned her about across the floor. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The song had finished and was replaced by a new fast song that I’d heard on the radio for the first time that very same day. We walked to a couch and sat down to continue our conversation. She sat close to me and I could feel the warmth of her skin against my own. We talked about everything-art, music, politics, education, love, life, family. She was amazingly intelligent and even humorous. I had met many girls that summer, but none amounted to what Kameron Patterson was.
Again, all good things must come to an end. Her friend was leaving and Kameron had to leave with her. I walked her to her car where she stood for a moment, twiddling the keys in her hands.
“When can I see you again?” I asked nervously.
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll pick you up at 10:00 a.m. sharp. You’re staying at Lydia Ranson’s house, right?”
“Yes. I’ll see you at 10:00.” And she got in her car and drove away.
I could not sleep that night. Her image floated around in my head all night. When I closed my eyes, she was there. Her laughter continued to echo in my ears, long after our good-bye. Around 6:00, I got out of bed and went downstairs. I made myself breakfast before going outside to paint my weather-damaged porch. I finished the first coat by 8:00, and decided to save the second coat for the next day. I cleaned up my supplies and went inside to shower. I spent several minutes looking through my clothes before deciding upon a plaid shirt and blue jeans. I slipped on my nicest pair of boots and grabbed the keys to the truck on my way out the door.
She was sitting on the front porch reading a book as I pulled up. She looked over the top of her sunglasses and smiled her beautiful smile. She set the book aside as I walked up to her and made space for me to sit on the stair.
“So Mr. Donahue, what do you have planned for us today?” she asked curiously.
“You’ll see.” I held out my hand and she quickly placed hers on my palm. I helped her up and led her over to my truck where I boosted her into the passenger’s seat. As I walked around the back of the truck, I breathed deeply. She was stunning in her pale yellow sun-dress and floppy sun-hat. Her golden hair was tucked neatly into a knot at the base of her neck where here dress was also tied. I started the truck and headed toward the country.
There is a back road that leads to a secret lake in the country. Will and I had discovered it as youths, and named it our own. She stayed curious throughout the trip, asking me where we were going, what we were going to do. Finally, I pulled to a stop in front of a rusted old gate. We got out of the truck. Realizing that she was in a dress, hopping the gate clearly wasn’t an option. Seeing this, she took off her heels and threw them over the gate before stepping carefully on the bottom railing and launching herself over. I stood there in amazement as she picked up her shoes and faced me with a smile. We both laughed and I took her hand once again and led her to the lake.
Earlier that morning, I had stopped by the lake to make sure everything was in order. I set a large blanket on the shore and hid a basket of food under a tree. As we approached, I placed my hands over her eyes explaining that I wanted to surprise her. I could feel her eyelashes tickling my fingers as she smiled and laughed. Finally, I removed my hands and let her take in her surroundings. She gasped at the sight of the vast lake and of the wild flowers surrounding her. She spotted the blanket and walked quickly over to it.
“Why, it’s a picnic blanket!” she exclaimed. I retrieved the basket from under the tree and sat down next to her. I had prepared sandwiches, fruit, dessert, and wine. She held out her glass as I poured her wine and asked for a toast.
“To nature. To love. To truth in every couple.”
“A just toast.” We sipped at our wine and started our sandwiches. All the meanwhile, I could not take my eyes off of her. She had such a beauty and grace about her that she amazed me with every movement. Though her beauty was astonishing, her voice and laugh were calming. Her voice, like her laugh, was deep and smooth. It reminded me of a gentle sea. We spent most of the afternoon by the lake, talking and joking, sitting and observing. Finally, we packed up and headed back to the truck.
The drive home was quiet, both of us appreciating the silence. We arrived Lydia’s house where we sat for a moment before I turned to her.
“Did you have a good time today?”
“Yes!” she said excitedly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, believe me, it was incredible!”
“Alright, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing particular.”
“Would you consider having dinner with me at my house?”
“Of course! What time do you want me over?”
“How about…7:00?”
“Sounds good.” And before she let herself out of the truck, she leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek.
I had finished painting the deck, gave Hamlet, my dog, a bath, and showered, and started dinner as she had driven up. I placed the towel on my shoulder and walked out to meet her. She was wearing a sky-blue sun-dress with a string of pearls that connected in the same place her dress tied. However, her long golden hair was hanging down her back, and it caught the light as she turned and moved. She greeted me with a quick kiss before walking inside.
She was amazed by the old elegance of the house. Carvings and trim lined the walls and fireplace. Rich wood lined the floors, decked with thick rugs here and there. I gave her a quick tour before showing her to the sunroom, where we would be eating our dinner. I left her with a glass of wine and retreated to the kitchen. I came back with chicken, salad, and mashed potatoes-my specialties.
“I’m not the best cook,” I said.
“I think it looks wonderful. Would I lie about something like this?” For some reason, her voice always relaxed me and allowed me to put my faith in her. We dined and wined. After the main course, I brought out an apple pie that my neighbor, Mrs. Copper had made for the occasion. We helped ourselves and sat back feeling extremely full and sleepy when we finished.
“That was excellent,” she said.
“Why thank you.” We conversed a while longer before heading inside to the sitting room. I had started a fire, in front of which she immediately placed herself. I sat down beside her and felt my stomach lurch as her head rested on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head. She snuggled in closer. Our eyes met, but closed as our lips moved closer together, finally touching.
I woke up every morning for the next two weeks with a smile on my face. I woke up knowing that I would see Kameron. Our relationship was growing, blossoming. Summer turned into fall, but Kameron never left the little town. She moved into an apartment, though she spent most of her time at my house. One particular night still remains in my mind, almost as vividly as it had just happened yesterday.
She stopped over after work with no intention of returning to her apartment. She met me on the porch and I could tell something was different about her. Her eyes were flashing in a seductive way and her smile was somewhat vacant. She pulled me out of my chair and pushed me playfully into the house. She ran into the sitting room and wrapped herself in a blanket in front of the fire.
“Are you okay?” I asked with a smile.
“Of course, why?”
“You just seem…different.”
“I’ve just realized something, that’s all.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to say yet.” And I left it at that. Evening faded into night as I sat and listened to her talk breathlessly into my ear. She seemed excited, the kind of excitement a child shows the night before Christmas. She left and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked, quite curiously.
“No occasion, I just want to be with you.” We drank almost the entire bottle in silence before she lay down beneath the blanket. I watched as her eyes slowly, gently closed, and then I watched the flames flicker in the fireplace. It was odd, how the flames danced about each other, cracking and splitting. Almost as if there was no end to them, as if they would crack and split and dance forever. I felt Kameron rustle under the blanket and turned to see her eyes fastened on my own. I leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. We released and she returned with a more passionate kiss. I felt the heat of our bodies in the air around me and the slight breeze of her breath in my ear. And as our eyes met once again, we made a silent agreement.
I watched her as she slept, kissed her eyelids, her face, her shoulders. I watched the reflection of the flames dancing in the sweat beads on her skin. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.
“I love you, Kameron. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every morning with you lying next to me. I want to dine with you every night. I want us to have children together,” I whispered. She nodded and closed her eyes, as if imaging a life with me. Then she smiled.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, I’ve never loved anyone like I do you. Let’s make life together. Kameron, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” I saw a tear form in her eye, but it stayed there. It did not roll down her cheek, or trace the curves of her face. That tear was her honesty, never would it be shed, never wiped away.
Now I suppose you’re wondering where truth comes into play in this story. Well, I’ve only told you the good parts. I’m sure you know by now that all love stories either end tragically, or the lovers live “happily ever after” in their cottage by the sea. A love story should never be taken lightly. Under the sappiness lays a truer meaning, a life lesson if you will. Now, Kameron sounds like a very…truthful…person, wouldn’t you agree? Well, I’ll let you decide if this love story is tragic, or “happily ever after”.