best friends two

And now the time has come
And so my love I must go
Although I lose a friend
In the end you will know...

--The Beatles, "I'll Follow The Sun"


Saturday seemed to get colder as the day progressed. The harsh winter winds whipped in and around the Valley, creeping their way insidiously through cracks in windows and vents in attics.

She woke up as soon as the sun rose, as soon as grey daylight began to invade my bedroom under cover of drapes drawn tightly together. This was sleeping in for her, so accustomed she was to regularly waking just before the day broke.

For me, it was earlier than I expected. I felt her get up from my bed and walk over to where her clothes reclined on the loveseat in my room.

"Are you going home?" I mumbled.

"I have to. I've got so much stuff to do today. Gotta get an early start."

It's some sort of physical law, some cosmic rule of thumb: You never get enough rest when you're sleeping at their place, no matter how toasty the temperature or how comfy the bed. If we had been at her place, I'd be the one waking with the sun, as she snoozed beneath layers of satin sheets and big blankets.

This is all part of my training. This is the regiment she has me on: beautifully realized dinners loaded with greens and roughage; wine bottles and glasses being used far more often than I ever would attempt on my own; and intimate evenings spent sleeping in each other's arms, without automatically going to sex.

That's what I have to accept. I want it all the time, every minute, every second. I've done it many times-- shucking off the obligations of the day just to spend hour after hour in bed with a lover, naked and unwilling to do anything beyond exploring the depths of pleasure... but nowadays, I've been learning how to take control of it.

I don't want to think with my dick forever. Eventually, I have to grow up.


*/*


I'm sticking with you
'cause I'm made out of glue
Anything that you can do
I'm gonna do too
Grown men going into the stratosphere
Soldiers fighting with the Cong
but with you by my side I can do anything
When we swing we hang past right and wrong

--Velvet Underground, "I'm Sticking With You"


My best friend woke up, dressed, and jumped on top of me to give me a hug just before she went off on her merry way. I smiled and said 'goodbye'. No separation anxiety, no feeling of rejection as she walked out of my door. Perhaps I was just too tired to fret.

I stayed in bed until I heard the phone ring about three hours later. I was late in answering, but the Caller ID let me know who'd called.

I rang up my best friend, and she asked me if I wanted to join her for the rest of her Christmas shopping day. I agreed-- I'd been contemplating going to an audition in Burbank (some nu-metal band that needs a bassist quickly) but decided that I was too wrecked from the night before to do anything about it.

It's not like we partied hard at all. But we did stay up late, and we were both blasted off of brandy mixed with milk and vanilla extract. She fell asleep on the couch as I tried to watch the rest of Batman Begins. I woke up at 3 AM and told her to go into my room. She complied, and went right to sleep.

So did I.

And then we were driving around in her car, trying to find parking at malls, trying to beat the lines inside, trying to save money for the other presents we had to buy.

She looked so lovely. She always looks lovely. I'm addicted to the movement of her hips. Her face always looks like she is mourning the death of something precious... something about her eyelids, the way they hang over her hazel pupils...

It becomes clearer and clearer each day that even though we are best friends, it's really a charade. The both of us are too scared to admit that we really depend upon each other for different things. I have improved my manners, and I try not to let our conversations degenerate into dirty talk sessions, but I still have that urge inside of me, to be inside of her, to want to close the doors of her apartment and trap ourselves in the bed, defiantly refusing to wear even a flimsy robe...

I can control it, though, because the alternative is that we will not be together. And rather than risk her leaving me behind, I tolerate my selfish, lustful passion. I know she is attracted to me as well, but she is a woman, and even though she likes it just as much as I do, she is not compulsive about it.

Compulsion runs through everything I do. I don't have OCD, but she pokes gentle fun at my little quirks: the way I empty the ashtray after four or more cigarette butts have piled up; how I turn on the fan to keep my old school heater from overwhelming us with excessive warmth; my constant need to keep the kitchen tidy as she destroys it in her quest to create perfect meals...

She thinks it's funny. It might even bother or annoy her a bit. But overall, she knows it is me, and she doesn't mind it because it is a harmless trait to possess.


*/*


And it's too late tonight
to drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other

--U2, "One"


Lost in the Amoeba Records landscape: it is always busy at Amoeba, but it's sheer pandemonium now. I lucked out and found convenient parking, but I had to go tinkle and there's no restrooms in the place. I told her I would meet her inside, after going to a nearby fast-food joint.

They were cleaning the john, so I was able to relieve myself without having to buy something. Then, I crossed the street and went inside to find her. And when I did find her, she was going crazy-- her arm was loaded with bargain-priced DVDs, and she had that look in her eye, that same look that gamblers get when they really should step away from the table...

This is where she gets compulsive. Now it's my turn to pull on the reins a little bit. I know her therapist wants her to buy more personal purchases because of her tendency to spend all of her money on other people, but there has to be some kind of limit.

"How many of these are gifts?" I asked her.

"The Island, L.A. Confidential, The Lady In White... oh, and I found Death Race 2000-- I got that one for you..."

That was sweet of her, I thought.

"...Labrynth is mine... Invaders From Mars is mine... and the seventh season of The Simpsons..."

"Okay, something has to go back."

"I know, I know... you know how I get. This is what happens when you leave me alone for five minutes!" she giggled.

"I know, I know... tell you what. I saw Dante's Peak for $7.99 back there... you put away Death Race 2000, and take Dante's Peak for your own. I'm not that big of a DVD guy, so it's all good."

"Are you sure? I know you said you liked that movie."

"I do, and I'm glad you were able to find it. But you've already spent so much. Plus, I know you've been fiending to find Dante's Peak for the past two weeks."

"I know. I almost bought it for full price last week, remember?"

"Yes I do. I told you to wait until we came here. Aren't you glad you did?"

"Yes, I'm very glad."

She smiled. I smiled. We got in line to pay for our respective items.


*/*


Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed
when silly thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphabet
and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
that you and I will walk together again
'cause I can tell that we are going to be friends

--The White Stripes, "We're Going To Be Friends"


Later on in the evening, after we were done shopping and she was meticulously wrapping her gifts, adding her ribbons and bows, we got invited by her brother to watch King Kong at a nearby movie theater.

Her brother was feeling lonely because his man was away. We drunkenly cheered him up by reminiscing about back in the days when he would help us sneak around to see each other.

The movie itself was incredible. Peter Jackson preserved the spirit of the original but added his own touches. The love story, of course, was poignant and touching. As is my wont, I imagined myself as the mighty Kong, and she was sitting next to me, my imaginary Fay Wray... or in this case, Naomi Watts. I thought about the giant gorilla, beating his chest like a naughty child throwing a tantrum, and her stern voice telling the beast "No!" because he needs to learn that too much is enough sometimes.

The movie was three hours long. I almost fell asleep at one point, but more often than not I was riveted.

Afterwards, she dropped me off at home and didn't stay, because she had to get up early the next morning to go to San Diego, to visit her cousin. She'd asked me on Friday if I wanted to go with her, and I said I would-- until I got a phone call from both of my bands regarding rehearsals on Sunday. I politely declined her invitation-- as much as I want to be with her all the time, I've chucked too many plans with others in favor of time spent with her, and that's not healthy. I wouldn't expect her to do the same for me, so I shouldn't get into that habit.

Sunday was spent doing yoga stretches and playing loud rock and roll music. She returned later that night, and we ate pizza while watching some of the DVDs she picked up the day before.

She stayed until her curfew, and after she left I drove over to my other best friend, Purple Paulie. Sharky used to be my best male friend, and he still is a good friend, but Paulie's been there for me like no one else. I stayed there until 2 AM and then I drove home, bleary-eyed and tired.

I reflected upon the weekend, and how it seemed to come and go in an instant. The weather warmed up a tad, but the winter cold is here to stay until spring rears its blossoming head.

She and I are friends. It's really a trip. After everything we've been through together, I just don't know what else to say about it.