It was many years ago. I was going through terrible heartbreak, let down by the only woman I ever loved. I never thought I could find love again. Till I ran into that bar one rainy night and was introduced to her, for the very first time. And that’s when the affair started. Of passion, of love, of lust and of obsession.
Imagine a fine point balance between an athlete and a samba dancer. The merge between straight, narrow, angular and of hinted curves. Of voluptuous body and taut punch. She was all that. Clear and transparent in her beauty, classic in her taste, she was pure delight.
She had the quiet strength that took me through many a difficult time. She sort of fortified me. After a hard long day at work, she was there to comfort me. She was a great sounding board too, an amazing listener to bounce off my ideas on, to sift through what worked and what didn’t. And before you write her off as this wise, sedate, homely-comely sort of personality, know this, she was the life of every party. Spend enough time with her, and life became one big Mardi Gras! She was like my best friend, one who was there to comfort when needed, and add more “happy” to happiness itself when called for. Equally at home in my study or at the hottest nightclub, she was La Dolce Vita. When I started hanging out with her, I must admit, it was purely out of selfish reasons. I used to love being seen with her, she who was so trendy and classic at the same time. I knew she had a lot to say about me when seen with me; I liked that image of mine. To (over)simplify, as time sped by, the relationship truly progressed from the superficial to the super-genuine-ly-in-love!
She was a free spirit, sophisticated and restrained but with an edge. A sort of chained wild child maybe. Having been with countless men and women, I knew she would never be a lover bound by monogamy, never be just mine. No pretences, illusions or shallow lies and half-truths, what you saw is what you got. We had the time that we had together and that was all that mattered. I knew that in those brief spells of time, it was just “I” that mattered. And that made it worth it. Even the money that I had to spend for her attentions.
I know how I sound. Like a slobbering, babbling man in love. A blithering idiot. And I know how you feel. Shocked. (What? You had to pay her to be with you?)
If only you knew her.
Purists, conservatives, liberals, the orthodox, the fundamentalists, the nihilists, the fatalists, the faithful, the libertines, all found what appealed to them in her. She could be your best friend, worst enemy and passionate lover all rolled into one. And before you turn away, know that it is a distinct possibility that you have met her at one of those bars, clubs, and galleries or even at a friend’s place.
Raise your glasses, for her name is, “Martini”!