Friday, February 06, 2009

The artistic Romantic Lady Killer Man finds the perfect solution

From being just laid to being laid low. Things had changed for him for a while. Irene – The One That Got Away. Almost. Sigh. Such beauty. The kind of immortal beauty that will never fade. The epitome of art. She truly walked in beauty like the night. He had thought that he had found his one true love, only to have his heart broken. She’d accused him of being a philanderer. That cut deep. He’d truly loved her. Bought her gifts, wined, dined and serenaded her. Bought her stuffed toys and pink cards. Helped her baby sit her nephew. Cared for her cat when she was away. He’d put his life on hold for her. No. Not on hold. She had been his entire life when they were together. And he would not have it any other way. Yes, she was demanding. But she had been worth it. It was meant to be – him and her. Together. All was going smoothly till the day she found the keys to the closet where he’d kept all his skeletons, metaphorically speaking of course. The skeletons were all either dissolved in acid and poured down drains or buried in various graves across the city, and if they weren’t skeletons going out, they sure would be skeletons now. But he’d given it all up for Irene. But she wouldn’t understand. She had found his previous relationships too ‘freaked out’ to handle. She’d walked out on him. Like Frank Zappa, he believed that broken hearts are for assholes. He wasn’t one. He’d moved on. It was tough. Her pretty eyes stared at him from the faces of the many women around town. He’d thrown himself into whirlwind affairs just to get over her. But he just couldn’t. He’d gone to sleep only to be awakened by the scent of her perfume wafting in on the first rays of the dawning sun. Her voice kept him awake at night. He’d decided that the only truth was that they should be together. For as long as he was alive. He’d gone back to her. To have her for himself. Things have a way of working out. And now they were together. They would be together. Oh! How he loved her. She was a lot less demanding now. She even didn’t mind the little affairs he would have every so often when that crazy little thing called love got the better of him. She didn’t mind when he brought women over. His perfect woman. Irene. His perfect love. Hers now was truly the beauty that would never fade. The solution was in the solution. Who could now see the physical impossibility of love in the heart of someone obdurate. He could drop in on her whenever he wanted to. Well, I think I will he thought. He could visit her now whenever he wished. And as he started walking to go down and see Irene, he thought he heard the far-off strains of David Byrne’s ‘My fair lady’...
♪♪ But forever you'll remain
And you have time because you will live forever
Never age and never tire
In my sleep and in my dreams at night
Nice song he thought, as he flicked on the switch in the basement and gazed on as the light sparkled off the crystal on and around her and illuminated the radiant beauty of his immortal Irene.
Calls to me a strange attraction
With your beauty and your passion
You are art and art will never change.....
He went close to her and through the looking glass said, “You know Irene, Damien Hirst would be proud of me.”

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