Written by Anonymous

Fiction
5 Jun 2018


“There is no meaning in the world. We ascribe meaning to nonsense.”

“So there’s no meaning to us? I mean nothing to you?”

“You always compare apples to oranges.”

“Am I the apple or the orange?”

“You would have to be the banana, wouldn’t you?”

“Anatomically?”

“How else?”

“You might have been referring to my sanity.”

“Then I would have said ‘bananas,’ not ‘banana.’ I’m nothing if not precise. And I am also sick of the sound of my own voice at this point. Do you ever get sick of yourself?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“I don’t dwell on myself the way you do.”

“While you’re looking for meaning in the chaos? You don’t dwell?”

“I don’t dwell on internals -not the way you do – I dwell on externals. Like the curve of your neck. Or why your collar bone makes me hard. How beautiful you are when you look down like that when I touch you like this.”

“My collar bone makes you hard?”

“As a rock.”

“Hmmm… you don’t lie.”

“Not about that.”

“Is that door locked?”

“No.”

“So if I straddle you like this…your assistant could walk in…and catch you…fondling… my collar bone?”

“He could – He’d probably fight you for me.”

“I might let him have you…as long as I could watch.”

“Look at that smile. You’re so pleased with yourself for your open mindedness but I think it would bother you if I enjoyed the company of a man.”

“I would guess that you’ll never give us the opportunity to find out. Hmmm.. Is that a laugh of recognition or relief?”

“It’s a laugh of joy. I do love the way your mind works. I love that you’re never boring…much as you test my patience beyond my liking.”

“Because I won’t just roll over and be exactly who you think I am?”

“Do I have you confused with someone else?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“Who have I confused you with?”

“Everyone. You think I’m motivated by emotion no matter how often I show you in everything I do – say – think that I am ruled by logic.”

“And yet you’re the most irrational, irresponsible person I know.”

“You fault me for my best talents.”

“There’s no meaning in the world…”

“No. None. It’s all meaningless, and it doesn’t matter.”

“And I mean nothing to you. You don’t love me.”

“No. Not in a way that can ever matter to you.”

“So you do love me?”

“In this moment…as I hike up my skirt…as I unzip your pants…as I take you hard in my hand…as I smile and turn my head so you can lust after my collar bone, ha!...as I straddle you again…look deeply into your eyes and slowly lower myself on to you…taking you in as deeply as I can…syncing my breath with yours…feeling this pleasure with you, for you…I feel euphoric…over, and over, over again…deeper, and deeper, and even more deeply again. But it’s merely euphoria, it’s not love. It’s misinterpreted as love. You think this is love…because right now you need to feel that this matters. Right now you need this release I’m about to give you to mean something…this moment of pure pleasure…right….now.”

“Ah….yes….please…ahhhhh”

“You want to feel loved, so your euphoria means something, but it doesn’t mean anything. It just is. It matters more to me that I can make you feel euphoric than that you might love me.”

“What if I love you?”

“Don’t. Don’t ever. To you love means that I owe you something that I can never repay.”

“What if it meant that I cared about you?”

“But it doesn’t. You care about the euphoria I’ve given you, and as soon as that euphoria wanes, so will your ‘love,’ and you’ll blame me for the pain of withdrawal or disappointment that the euphoria didn’t last, but that’s not love, that’s addiction to endorphins.”

“Then what is love to the logician?”

“Well, first and foremost it’s something that can never be returned or requited. There’s an old Japanese parable about a son whose father is killed by a warlord when the son is 5. The son trains for 20 years, finds the warlord and is about to avenge his father when the warlord spits at the son. And the son sheaths his sword and walks away because to kill the warlord in anger isn’t honourable. Love, for me, is the ultimate generous act. It is honourable, not emotional. I only give it when I receive nothing in return for it, and funny enough, that’s usually when it’s needed most. If I need it, it can’t be love. If I need it, it’s addiction. it’s corrupted. It’s cheap. If I can give it without ever needing anything in return, then it is an honour to love and not a euphoric addiction, and in so being, it never fades or dies and so it is never given lightly.”

“Have you never met someone and completely lost your head? Wanting to see them everyday? Wanting to hear them talk just to hear the sound of their voice? Have you never wanted to dive into their flesh and never come up for air again? Have you ever had every thought, everything you touch, taste and smell be about them? Have you ever felt like you would die for someone?”

“That’s infatuation – and all of that is for you not for them. If the best thing for me right now was to walk out of this office and never see you again, would you let me go? And would you be able to continue to manifest the best the world has to offer to me no matter how much pain it caused you? Would you be able to be mature about it and not drink or obliterate yourself with other women or drugs? Would you be able to live never seeing me again knowing that was the best thing for me? Without ever sinking into despair or depression?”

“Yes, under one condition.”

“Tell me?”

“I would be able to do that if I knew you would never, ever reject me.”

“You mean remain faithful to you?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous. Fuck who you like, but always think of me the way we were together just a moment ago. I could let you go if I knew the thought of me would always make you smile just like that. In fact, if every relationship ended like that, before the end, before the rejection, it would be much more bearable than waiting for everything to fade or being rejected before I’m ready to let go.”

“So how long do you think this will last? What’s our shelf life?”

“I’ve no idea…and I don’t want to think about that.”

“Okay, what about this. Every 9 months, provided we make it 9 months, we take a break for 3 months. No questions asked. No negotiations. If it needs to be shorter, we can do 6 months on and 6 months off.”

“Why not on and off every other month?”

“I don’t know. Why not. Let’s try it all on and see what fits.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am. Why not? Because there’s some ridiculous idea of what should be? Who has that ever worked for? Don’t turn away. I’m dead serious. Who has that ever worked for?”

“No one.”

“No one. So let’s forge a new road.”

“And you’re not worried that I’ll fall in love with someone else?”

“Worried? No. If you fall in love with someone else, that’s what’s best for you and you go in that direction - always. That has to be the point. We’re not just divvying up time differently. We have to look at the whole thing – all of it -differently. If you find euphoria elsewhere, enjoy it. If you want love, the way you feel it now, go have it. But if you want what I’m offering, you have to change – how you think about it. How you feel it. You have to change what it is and what it means to you....- Now, I have to go home and you have to get back to work…my collar bone thanks you.”

“I hate to tell you, but I do love … this.”

“Then let’s test that. Find someone else to do this with and see if you feel the same way about it.”

“You would risk this for that?”

“I’m not risking anything. I’m just testing a theory.”

“At what price?”

“The highest price. Anything less wouldn’t be worth testing.”

“So I just find some random woman and suggest this to her?”

“Well, you have to find someone worthy.”

“That might take a while.”

“Yes, well, you can take your time with that.”

“And there’s that devilish smile. You’re too damn smug, and this might all just blow up in your face.”

“I’ll take my chances – but if this is real – if this isn’t just a figment of our imaginations – if it matters, then we can do anything we want to it and it will always be exactly what it is and what it’s supposed to be.”

“You’re not afraid to find out that you might be wrong?”

“AFRAID?! If I’m wrong – if we’re wrong – the sooner we figure that out, the sooner we stop wasting time. My god man, but you are terribly silly sometimes. ‘Am I afraid to find out I’m wrong.’ You’re too cute for words. Now kiss me good-bye and get that gorgeous assistant of yours to assist you with your pants.”

"I will. Fix your skirt. And remind me again, if this is real, if this matters, then doesn't that prove there is something in this world that has meaning?"