Mad

It's mad. Sitting in a cab, kissing her. Totally mad. Out of all, I had to choose the one I'm bound to see daily. She knows much more about me than anybody else — and if she does not, she learns soon. Because she can.

Still, I'm kissing her lips and looking into those perplexed eyes dazzling back at me.

Nothing happened. Yet now, every time I'm passing her, I cannot help but wonder.

Automatic

Living in automatic mode for ages. Work, relationships, activities. Seldom slowing down to look back or replaying what's been going on, seldom contemplating. Disastrously tired yet certainly not able or willing to slow down.

Not looking for a change; not even realising there might be a need for one; not ready, not exploring.

And then, while sitting in a café in a leafy suburban street, the world pauses for a moment and everything comes to me crystal clear.

It was about time I started drinking coffee.

Announcement

He hardly ever talks to me. And if he does, he just hints. Or rather hints at hints. And he looks at me and keeps quiet. He's been doing it ever since I've known him — well over twenty years already. Just looking at me and maybe letting a short chuckle out. If I were to be Yossarian, he would make the perfect Orr. Him grinning at me with imaginary horse chestnuts in his mouth and me having no clue what it's all about. The revelation? It hardly comes. No, let me correct that: It's non-existent.

I can get mad as much as I want, nevertheless I cannot help but love the guy. Having a brother like him is highly entertaining. And great, no matter how one looks at it.

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon and I'm having a very late lunch with my girl. Sipping the tea and watching Blaze of Glory on MTV in the back, we chat. How's he, she asks, when is he getting married?

When are you getting married?, a question pops on his iPhone few seconds later while I continue to sip my tea.

Whatever happened in next two minutes is a mystery to me. Did I puzzle him? I wish but I may never know! Then the message buzzes. A firm date, just three months from now. Don't tell anybody, I'm to announce it yet, he adds.

I cannot help but love the guy.

Tripping

Dead tired. So naturally dead tired. It's 2 AM. I'm still not sleeping. Insomnia, my closest friend, stays with me through the night. I'm to wake up at 4 — latest! — to go somewhere a.k.a. to socialise for business.

Hours earlier, I was sitting in a suburban restaurant, sipping water and eating chocolate cake. We chitchatted until late. I suppose I could have kissed her on my way home or maybe even take her to her place or mine and see what would happen next. Nope. I went home, so nonchalantly missing a chance.

This guy here wants you, she was told by a tipsy lady who was trying to guess what's really between us. There's nothing, I said. It's purely platonic. So be it.

It's 8 AM. I'm sitting on a plane, trying to fall asleep somehow. At least for an instant, it would help. I see things. And amongst them, I see how this squat of mine should look one day. I finally cracked it, Steve had said. I'm perplexed. Now? It's insane but I'm loving it.

Two days later, after I socialised enough, I'm back. Weary as ever. As soon as I alight from the plane, I'm meeting my long-legged slender architect. She's close to perfect, wouldn't it be for drinking beer and chain-smoking. I finally cracked it, I'm explaining with a grin. She hates it but accepts.

I have a plan now. And still am dead tired. So naturally dead tired I'm dropping to bed unconscious. Well, that's a start!

Dinner

It's her birthday and I'm taking her for a dinner. I don't have to — I just want to. Perhaps to show her that I care. Or, more accurately, to make myself sure that I still care. I used to love her once and — as usually through my roller-coaster ride — to a degree I still do.

A fancy Italian restaurant, surely one of the best I know in this city. She loves it from the moment we walk in. I smile at her and I talk to make her laugh. Leaving my iPhone in my pocket, this is the best combination I can provide.

It goes well. Very well. She's relaxed, loosening. And we talk openly, as openly as possible between two former lovers having fun.

Then, suddenly, she breaks. You should find somebody you can love and not just be with somebody you can be with and be seen with. She starts crying.

I hear her well. I grew older. I grew comfortable, if not altogether comfortably numb. I do not feel like being out there anymore, grew tired of going through the same escapades over the time. Do not feel the urge to change.

Within few minutes, we're back, laughing and chatting as if that awkward moment never happened. It might have sunk, submerged deep underneath in our minds, I cannot feel it anymore. At least for a while.

Then later on, alone with my thoughts, it comes back with a vengeance. People tend to crave for love. And some do for commitment, too.

I wonder. If she were only five years older back then. I'll never know. It's too late. I'm falling asleep puzzled.

Drive by

Five minutes. It's all I get. I drive by, she jumps in. We don't talk, there's no need. I'm touching her. Kissing her slowly, trying to savour the instant, to have something to replay over and over once it's gone.

It's gone soon. She jumps out, sharing the last almost invisible smile with me. I speed up, leaving everything that happened to hazy memories.

After midnight

She's here, lying next to me, fast asleep. Me, my head filled by a tangle of thoughts. No complications, no doubts though. Amongst them thoughts, there's one shining clearer than any other: I care for her. Whatever happens — and whatever happened — I'm not to change anything.

I recall the moment I saw her for the very first time. Not in person, it was in the very beginnings of Facebook. I saw a photo of her back then. And thought — what if? I smile lightly.

Kissing her neck, my palm finds hers and I feel she's happy. Yeah — and I want her to be.

The Longest Night, Part Three

It started with fleeting kisses few months ago, followed by a neverending flow of messages and emails. Now — it seems natural and supernatural at the same time. Would I object if it did not take place?

It's so instinctive, so brutally normal — yet amazing and extraordinary, too.

I cannot stop looking into those dark eyes of hers, every inch of my body aching with desire, finally merging into a single being.

Making love, over and over again.

The Longest Night, Part Two

Accepting events as they unfold seemed to be the safest bet. A pleasant conversation over the dinner, a passionate fondling in a cab afterwards. And a few dragging minutes before the lights went off in my place.

I remember little. Showing her around and then, all of a sudden, her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes widening, her lips parting, her body melting.

Intermission. Me, gazing at her, astonished, overwhelmed. So was she, gazing back at me.

Engaging in small talk for those few remaining seconds before we found our way to the mattress, the centre of this squat universe.

Can you lend me a T-shirt, please?

Pressing my lips against hers and kissing her long and slowly. And gently, above all. She's giving in, naturally, calmly. And me, absorbed, fascinated, amazed: It's the real thing.

The Longest Night, Part One

It meant to be a dinner — and a decent one, too. Wine, friendly chat, laugh. A cab and a good-bye kiss.

Can you lend me a T-shirt, please, she asks nicely as we come to my squat. Yet this is not the same girl who was leaving the restaurant just fifteen minutes ago. My lips were pressed to hers as soon as we left, her eyes widened and she had drown in forbidden passion, willingly and knowingly.

The lights are disapproving. There are the shadows of the real life again, at least for the moment. Can you lend me a T-shirt, please?

I pass her one, probably the shortest I've had around. She puts it on and leaves everything else by the bedpost. The lights go off.

I'm left with no time to think, no time to wonder, no time to hesitate. This does not seem to be just my overgrown fantasy. It's the real thing.

Drive

Driving back and forth over and over again. Pushing the limits, soaking deep in ambivalent feelings of joy, need and responsibility; whatever that may mean.

For a moment, a short moment, I feel complete. I honestly believe that everything that is happening to me at the moment is as good as it gets, it's so close to perfect.

Still, I'm tempted. What about a different place, a different city, a different job. A different point of view. A different girl by my side. Don't settle, Jobs famously said, though I doubt this is what he meant.

I drive and am driven and I just cannot get enough. Would I not be around for much longer, I could always exit knowing it was an intense fun.

And drive, it's such a great metaphor.

Shivering

A year ago, I was sitting on the bench overlooking the city and slightly shivering; it wasn't a cold night, it was this beautiful creature sitting next to me, sharing the bench and extraordinary moments of closeness with my wonder-struck self.

I'd love her, I'd love her till the end of my days, oh God, I would, would she let me, would she wanted me to.

For months, I hoped she was hesitating, and maybe she really was. My brain cells still scream of pain and lust I went through; the most technicolor experience of my life, far better than any drug I ever tasted.

Then, one day, I finally woke up. Rejecting love — though it's just love in waiting — was brutal. Man, was I hurt, stabbing myself, cutting my veins, murdering my hopes and dreams. Seeing her was like burning in hell, yet still nothing like not seeing her; the torture seemed to be everlasting. Have anybody heard my silent screams? Have anybody noticed my invisible tears?

Few more months have passed until I slightly and painfully found my way around agony I was more dying than living through.

A year has passed and I'm still not cured. Yet I've buried my distress deep inside and we hardly come across each other these days anymore. I live, I laugh and I go on feeling stronger than ever.

Lunch?, a message pops in while I'm already eating. A thousand kilometers away. With somebody else.

And I'm still shivering.

Autumn swing

I smell autumn in the air. It's an early evening, I've just left the office. Left the car at home this morning so I could go out tonight and not hold back. The sharp sun is quickly setting. It's not cold yet — though one can smell what's to come.

A bus stop. No one can see it, I realise. No one! Everybody's mesmerised by their mobiles. The large hot bulb is shining right at them and they don't care. Should they?

It's no better on the subway: if it's not a mobile than it's certainly a Kindle or iPad. Am I any better? No, I'm not — but I've been trying. Hard.

Got rid of Facebook. Stopped tweeting. Instagram is left in the dark, too.

Meeting people instead is ambitious. Lunches, dinners, drinks. Even emails seem old-fashioned. Funny how fast the world evolves.

Thirty minutes left till my next meeting. Walking in a park, trainspotting, taking occasional moody photos I won't share with anybody.

I feel slightly displaced. But hey, those feelings subside as I kiss her neck gently when falling asleep. This has always worked for an autumn swing.

Hectic

You did not sleep at home, a colleague of mine hints seeing me wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I did not, I admit without hesitating. In fact, I slept in four different towns and five different beds in last five nights. My car is my home: everything from toothbrush to iPad travels with me.

Tight schedule, yet manageable. And enjoyable at the same time. Emails on the go, phone calls while driving. Using hands-free, of course! I smile at the receptionist as I pass by. She smiles back, unknowingly. I smile at the taylor trimming my suit and she smiles back. Knowingly. Indeed, it does work.

When falling asleep in one of those beds, I smile again, looking at the perfect body lying next to me. This is rather the only bitter-sweet moment of the day.

I can't. I won't. I'm off again in a few short hours. My German class starts at 7 AM. The tutor will be pünktlich. So shall I.

Cherish

A lazy summer Sunday. Perhaps the last one this season. Sun is still making sure we sweat — yet the days get shorter, mornings chillier and the dark falls early.

We make love as we come alive and than just hang on in an unceasing hug, floating in and out of consciousness until the hunger wakes us up for good.

We eat and set ahead for a seemingly meaningless trip. By the river, by the trees, with my hand on her knee and her palm in my hair.

Shall we stay together? Time will tell. We discuss what ifs so naturally and matter-of-factly as I've never experienced before. This ain't a silly high school talk, this happens for real.

If I could love her, I would, although it's too early, my shattered heart is miles away and I can't pull myself together for now. I'm like a thief trying to get rid of old habits, desperately stressing to be a better man.

We dine in my favourite joint and then we split; and I'm leaving towards the setting bulb in the sky. I sigh lightly: my life has become a slushy romance — and I cannot get enough.

Arguing

Walking down the river bank with a bunch of friends on a lazy afternoon. Having a great time, at least I think so. Just a little catch I learn about once we come home.

— You didn't hold my hand — she complains.
— I didn't know I could!
— Yet you said you would!
— Yep, I did. Meaning when we're alone.
— You should have anyway.
— OK. I will. Tomorrow.

If this was the worst argument we were to have, I can live with it. And yes, we're together — it's official — I've just learned.

Pearl Jam, Prague 2 July 2012

Main Set: Sometimes * Animal * Given To Fly * Got Some * Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town * Gods' Dice * The Fixer * I Am Mine * Corduroy * Even Flow * Setting Forth * Not For You (Snippet: Modern Girl) * Push Me, Pull Me * Garden * 1/2 Full * Unthought Known * Wasted Reprise * Life Wasted * Why Go

Encore: Of The Girl * Just Breathe * Crazy Mary (Snippet: Angie) * Once * Do The Evolution

Encore 2: World Wide Suicide * Better Man (Snippet: Save it for Later) * Black * Alive * Baba O'Riley * Yellow Ledbetter

One more thing

Four years ago, I was sitting opposite her in a Mexican joint. She was shy, very shy, yet every time her eyes met mine, she smiled. Ended up giving me her number without me asking; and I knew I could.

Haven't seen her in a month. Popped by to swap books and photos.

— How are you? — She asked in a desperate attempt to start a conversation. It was plain and banal — and heartbreaking.

— Good. All's good.

— You, you wanna say anything?

— Nah. Am not ready yet, maybe later. — I sigh and stand up to leave.

I'm leaving and not looking back. Back in the street, I can breathe again. There's one more thing, I message her: I wanted to spend my life with you — and I'm still sorry it didn't work out.

She never replied.

Pandora's box

I was so close. Could have driven to her place and ring the bell. Could have called her and asked her out. To have a coffee. A chat.

If I ever had learnt anything about love, it was because of her. She made me go through all stages, numerous times. I hoped and wished for breaking up for ages, yet when it happened the relief was non-existent; the enduring pain lasted far longer that I'm able to admit even after more than a decade.

Yep; it made me the man I am today. And maybe that's why I cannot ring that bell.

Scaling down

I guess it has already started on a plane. An insomniac brain circling around the same topic over and over again. A girl sleeping next to me, another two awaiting me at the destination. And a few more scattered around. Me — an unsettled scumbag scoring like an alfa male. Pretentious. Perhaps fun for a moment — but then certainly a drag.

A week has passed. Overseas seems like a distant ship's smoke on the horizon. A mere week — and it's all different. Out of two, there's none. And I'm to deal with another two over the weekend.

Fine now. Time to concentrate.