Manic Pixie Dream Girl

It was a hot night last night. Hot and still and beautiful. The city empties out at this time of year. The neighbours who look directly into my backyard were out of town, like everyone else, so Chloe and I sat outside, drinking all the leftovers from Xmas. By about midnight, we were well merry and au naturel sex seemed like a super idea. Which it was. Nothing like warm summer night air on your intimate areas! That is, it was a good idea until suddenly a head popped over the fence. My fences are high; you actually have to clamber up to pop your head over. ‘You guys look like you’re having fun,’ said the head. ‘Can we join you?’ My across-the-road neighbours heard Chloe (who doesn’t know how to keep quiet) and thought they’d invite themselves over for a foursome!

Only in my life.

We declined. Chloe, being a proper lesbian, didn’t like the guy (there was a guy and a girl), and I find the whole neighbourly social interaction awkward enough without having had a foursome with them. Of course, now they’ve seen me naked as a little cherubim and in the throes of passion, the vague wave and ‘how’s it going?’ isn’t going to be quite the same, anyway.

I’m recovering from the swine flu right now (OK, I don’t know for sure if it was the swine flu, but it lasted for ages and was very unpleasant), so today at work after very little sleep was hard going. And tonight I am overtired and childlike and want to curl up and cry a little bit, at the same time as feeling warm and happy and terribly at peace.

Almost as complex as my feelings for Chloe, which I’m about to attempt to dissect, and you are going to suffer through it? OK? OK.

I can’t say I don’t love her. That would be a lie, pure and simple. But we’re not even living in the same town right now. We see each other sometimes and it’s awesome. I find her so incredibly hot, and I love ripping the clothes off her and I love the sex we have and I love sleeping in a tangle of limbs with her and I love the meandering conversations and I love the randomness and the adventures we find ourselves in. I really do love her.

(Prepare yourself for the bad metaphor section). But I don’t want to start making demands of her. She’s like some exotic, beautiful butterfly to me, and she’s fluttering on by. What would be the point on pinning her down? The flutter is half her beauty. She’s a spectacular sunset – the sort that fills the air was an otherworldly glow. And even as you’re marvelling at its beauty, you’re filled with sadness because you know it can’t last.

I think what I hope is that our lives continue to intersect. I don’t want to bind her to me, but I hope our paths continue to cross and we’re a non-demanding, non-binding part of each other’s lives for a long time to come. I want her to keep fluttering by, I want more than one sunset.

To be fair, I don’t want to be bound to her life either. She has a long way yet to travel, and I’m enjoying the semi-settled life I have at the moment.

I think she is an advanced lesson in love without attachment, which the Italian started for me.