"I love you."

that's what she said. i don't really know what love is, though. i love my girlfriend, i guess. i mean, i don't want bad things to happen to her, i care about her well being. if i were shakespeare, i could say 'i bear her my love' and i wouldn't be lying. it still doesn't mean that i know what love is though.

there's a girl who i know. if she showed up on my doorstep and said, come with me, i would. if she called me and said, i need money. i need a car. i need. i would do it. maybe that's love, but if so, why am i not with her? how can i stand it?

when i saw her last we each had our others with us. i sort of chuckled at her boy, he was tall and pretty and talked a bunch. he wasn't as smart as me, but he was nice. he made a fine bedwarmer, he would do, but he wasn't me. and i saw her smile aside as she met mine. pretty enough, certainly nice. not as smart or with the same joi de vivre, but fine. comfy. but not her.

we didn't make a fuss. we knew that we did as we did because it was easier. perhaps it wouldn't even work anyway, and sadness sucks. for lots of reasons, we glance, smile, and move on.

"I love you"
"like for reals?"
"yep"
"hm. thanks!"
"someday you'll realize that you love me back"
"then what?"
"we'll fuck"

i was nonchalant, but i'll never forget that little exchange. no, fucking isn't love, but it's what lovers do. and in that moment images flashed through my mind, backseats and bathrooms and morning breath and sweat. making coffee in the morning. exploring the long languid terrain of her skin.

i don't think it would work, honestly, i'm not pretty enough. i am a hairy spaniard of gypsy stock. i like to drink, though it makes me impotent. i like to think i am uninhibited in bed, and i'm sure that people who haven't slept with me think that i am uninhibited. but if you give me the reigns, i am as like to just put you on top and enjoy the ride.