Some boyfriends are good, some are better, some are the best. Some good ones pick you up at the airport, the best ones are right at the gate - the first face you see when you step off the air-bridge. The good ones carry your bag. The best one carry all your luggage and your purse and put it in the back of the car, open the passenger side door for you and close it behind you once you have settled in. The good ones ask if you want something to eat, better ones bring you a cookie, the best ones went to the market that morning to get the freshest of fruits and then cut them up into bite-sized pieces so they can offer you a cornucopia of papaya, mango, apple, pear, grapes, and pineapple upon arrival.
The good ones drive you everywhere. Partly because the traffic is crazy in the country they live, partly because he knows all the short-cuts, but mostly because he wants you to relax and take in the sights. To adjust easily and without the added stress. When taking the highway through the countryside to the beach, the best one lets you drive, and let's you drive over the speed limit with your choice of music playing, while he feeds you bits of mango from the day before. The best ones have a brand new VW Jetta with Bose speakers, tinted windows, and manual transmission. The doors are light and fall into closure without a squeak or a slam.
The good boyfriends clean their room before you arrive. Better ones clean the whole house, wash the sheets, put TP on the roll, and fold fresh towels. The best one buys you a hotel suite - a corner room, steps from the pool, walking distance from downtown and steps away from an art museum and the fine arts high school he graduated from. The best one has a father who founded that fine arts school - his family is made of intellectuals: parents were also teachers of philosophy, cousins who are writers and adventurers; most of them speak a little English.
Good boyfriends give it to you as soon as you get to his house. Better boyfriends do it again later that day. The best boyfriends wait - it has been a long time since you have seen each other and this is more than a carnal attraction. He kissed you, yes, of course, right at the airport gate. You forgot how soft yet full his lips are. He tastes like honey and milk. His skin is taught and tough and yet so smooth, nearly hairless. The contrast with his dark eyes is magnetic, you want to hold your creamy white arms next to his the way the day is always chasing the night. The lines of his tattoos flow along his tendons and muscles. He is wearing a snap-front modern short sleeve cowboy shirt. The pearl buttons flash as he fastens his seat belt. The best ones make sure you fasten yours, too.
Obviously, i am infatuated. I am in love even. I am a hopeless romantic so have already picked out my dress and the names of our first born daughter and son. But now I am here and the reality is setting in.
To see him again, for the first time in flesh and blood in more than 4 years was truly surreal. As the sliding doors opened to a mass of brown faces and black hair, I scanned from right to left and locked eyes on him. Before i could think of what to do (I had been planning various scenarios, all which failed me in the moment) I had squealed: "Edy! oh my god..." as we embraced, fumbling with our desires to hug and kiss at the same time. Wanting to kiss and also wanting to hug because hugging allows more of the body to be in contact with each other. My brain was instantly washed in warmth and tingles. Everything suddenly was brighter, crisper in contrast, and richer in color. All sounds but his voice faded into a whoosh His eyes penetrated my scattered gaze as I struggled to maintain my equilibrium. I wanted to faint, to laugh, to cry, to crumble. My mind was swirling, like the drugs had just taken hold. But this was better. So I took another dose by just looking at him, touching him, listening to him say my name: "Ay, Nichole."
He looked good. Better somehow after all these years. I knew that I was better, too - healthier, thinner, happier, more mature. But he looked like a MAN. A man I wanted. His presence expressed courage, confidence, compassion, connectedness. He exuded success. Here I was, his only desire, finally walking hand in hand with him and he was satisfied. No need for pomp and circumstance. It was simply factual. We fell very easily into a comfort together, it was instantaneous with the exception of a few more giggles from me as i took realization that I had spend the last few months scrimping and saving, abstaining and planning, to spend my tax refund on airfare and take a leap of faith to reconnect with an old flame. We had only been a brief flame at that. But in the span of a weekend while I was 26 I had, as most hopeless romantics do, looked at astrological omens and scared myself into thinking we were cosmically betrothed. At 26, I was much less confident in my destiny and uncertain of my desires and had pushed him away in fear. I wasn't ready to meet the One then. How lucky I am to get a second chance.
