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I’m sitting here, across from Liel, not close enough to be obvious, but I know she takes comfort from the fact that I am here. She hates blind dates, but still allows her friends and family to talk her into them, so I am here for support, or to rescue her should the situation arise. The last time I did, apparently her ‘date’ had begun this diatribe on the ‘life and mating cycle of the fresh water river fish’, and how it resembled humans ‘so closely’. We laughed an hour later, sitting by the river eating fish and chips on a picnic bench.

Taking a sip from my near full wine glass, my mind wanders from Liel to Jeremy, my boyfriend, I wonder what he’ll wear tonight on our date? I wonder what I will wear, and where we will go and how long this insane and strangely compelling fascination, infatuation for him will last. I guess you could say I’m a little cynical, but men are fickle and shallow, and I doubt I’m the first to say that I ‘want more’, but then, any others seem to be too old, too young or just completely not my type. So while I’m seeing this guy, Jeremy, I’m not holding my breath, though I’m trying not to be overtly negative. I don’t really want to sabotage it before it can grow into something worth pursuing, even if I don’t hold much hope of that happening.

I can’t help but think that despite Jeremy’s dark good looks, slightly chiselled muscular arms and shoulders, well kept but not perfection incarnate, blue eyed Jeremy, that things would be so much more simple if Liel was a guy. The implication at that point, that she would be ‘Liel’ at all, has crossed my mind, but, the way we interact, she’s everything I could hope for in a life partner, except that I can’t contemplate having sex with her. I mean, I could probably go through the motions, but enjoyment? The thought turns my stomach truth be told. I’m well past the point, where I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, to reject such obviously hinted pleasure at such a woman, that desire is just not there.

That said, I cannot let go of the deep comfort and pleasure I enjoy from holding her. We cuddle on the couch watching favourite movies. We alternate, one I like then one she likes, and it isn’t the movie itself, but the closeness and the company. In this way only, do I appreciate the softness of her skin, the smooth way it curves about her body, the sultry curve of her hair about her shoulders before it tumbles down about her waist, fine silk against my cheek as we watch. We used to wonder if perhaps we were keeping something back, hiding some secret lust for one another, but after confessing we laughed, easily and long, knowing in that moment it wasn’t so.

I shake my head slightly, to clear the reverie, looking over to Liel to see how she fares, her smile is genuinely pleased and it seems that her sister-in-law or cousin or friend’s friend may actually have hit the right vein. Almost imperceptively she looks over to me, a brief smile all I need to see to know she doesn’t need me to wait any longer, so I drain my glass, and pay my bill, and as I leave the warm café I smile again thinking of Jeremy, thinking perhaps I may not wear anything at all when I greet him at my door this evening.

"I'm not an artist - I'm a f*%king work of art!"
- Marilyn Manson: (S)aint

"Hold the 'S' because I am an 'aint'"
- Marilyn Manson: (S)aint

"If at first you don't succeed, you're about average... I HATE being average."
- Adam Best

"One must either be a work of art, or wear one."
- Oscar Wilde

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The following comments are for "Joshua's Monologue"
by De`esse

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