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Old 03-08-2013, 08:14 AM
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fuchka fuchka is offline
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Join Date: Nov 2011
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Default Djuna, what's not to love

The first time I met her was at a poetry event. She's the kind of girl that says "hey", keeps her hands in her pockets, stands with one side of her body slightly lower than the other. She wears shoes that were designed to scuff sidewalks.

Grotto had invited her. A friend he hadn't seen for a while, one he had always liked, was obviously crushing on a tiny bit. Just this much <-->

Leaning into one small round bar table, pints dripping condensation into coasters, we were happy to have exchanged names. I don't remember talking to her.

I remember her poem, written hastily on a scrap of paper like all good poems. It was about meeting new people, and not really talking to them, but feeling their love anyway. A poem for us, the people she'd just met. Smooth

As often happens with poetry, you see the insides of someone. Her poem was simple, direct. The way I've come to realise she talks, once you get things going.

Eventually, Grotto asked her to his place for dinner. They ate, fucked, and pretty soon were boyfriend and girlfriend. In many ways they matched each other much more than Grotto and I match. Size, shape, colour, accents, sense of humour, world view. I was never jealous about these things.

Their relationship developed mostly when I was overseas, when Grotto & I were long distance. In the couple of visits home, Djuna, Grotto and I had some mind-melting threesomes. I got to know her better as a person. I asked her to be my girlfriend, something we both knew was a token gesture of a broad intention to see where things went, between the two of us (separate to Grotto and her connection).

After six months or so, Grotto broke up with her. It wasn't dramatic, but it was sad. They always stayed good friends, and now they are comfortable with being friends who fuck occasionally.

As for us, we write letters, e-mails, Skype. Long-distance for the foreseeable future. I'm not holding back, at least not consciously, but I know I'd hate to miss her. I don't miss her now. We've established a comfortable 'long-distance' shape, perhaps because we've always been long-distance.

The love I have for her is not a falling, or an explosion, but a slow-paced daisy chain pieced together over many lazy afternoons. We're still going. It is good.

(prev referred to in this blog as Ella)
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