He was the glue that allowed me to maintain my passion for the unique aspects of life.
I can recall the bumpy car rides "home" where all we did in the backseat of the jeep was draw tiny, stick-figure cartoons on a random page in my green dream diary.
Those evenings when he would mess up -- I would leave with my back to him and escape to my horrendous lavender room to nap in the bed we shared -- and we would lie in bed together, discussing the flawed tales of vampyres - his immense talent for theatre allowed him to portray what we both believed to be a real vampyre.
The stories he told as we split a milkshake at midnight bowling -- his voice was as enchanting as the somewhat fabricated tales escaping his lips -- captivated me and alluded me to the wonders he had experienced.
When I think back our love reminds me of the old Danielle Steele Novels I used to read when I had a more narcisistic personality. Thank God things with my currant boyfriend is more like reading the penthouse forums. I mean I grew up and had to start admitting that I kinf of like it a little dirty.
I learned these things from Lucille Ball.
while playing kickball