five sex ideas
a movie montage of you trying on different clothes at a store and modeling them for me while i sit on a big ottoman drinking iced tea out of a champagne glass and then later we’re watching that movie of us and rubbing our slippered feet together every now and again and you fall asleep during the credits and i immediately get to work on the prep for tomorrow's brunch because we're expecting a shitload of guests and that's it.
we eat gas station sushi and split a bag of mini cinnamon donuts and then slowdance all night in a dimly lit kitchen and that’s it.
we both are wearing this
and that’s it.
i stay in on a saturday night and eat a whole pint of phish food in my undies and you tell me i'm such a fucking miranda over and over again and that’s it.
it’s like when you first live on your own and go to furnish your new place. you don’t really have the means to decorate how you see fit so you build a life out of what small things you have acquired as a kid and what you’ve been given by whatever friends and family you have looking out for you. but you see a lamp that you’re really into so you buy the lamp. and when you turn on the lamp your place feels like home in a way that’s rooted in memory but also feels new. you can see everything in a better way within its light.
after a while the light distorts a bit and eventually goes out. and now your place only feels like home in that way that it’s just where you continually return to. you understand that you miss the lamp and you make plans to look into fixing it but just living your life has begun to take up all of your time and your energy. you use a couple different lights. whichever ones are easiest to reach at any given moment. and it’s fine it’s whatever. until your place becomes unbearable to live in in that way that assures the rest you need to rejuvenate yourself continuously. you truly believe that it’s because of the lamp. so you get to work trying to figure out what’s wrong with it. you replace the bulb. you check the wiring. you go into the basement and check the fuse box. all of this you do in tiny increments over time. you know that if you could just get the lamp to work that you’d get that same comforting feeling of home. of belonging. you’ll be able to look at yourself within its light, when you always felt like you looked your best.
finally your hard work pays off and you end up fixing it.
but in the time that passed while it had been working and then distorting and then finally breaking, you’d been able to furnish your place with things that you truly wanted. things that are not just yours because they’ve always been yours. things that are not just yours because your support system outgrew them and let you have them. but things that you worked towards acquiring because they made you feel closer to the you that always felt true. and you look around your place with a sense of accomplishment now that the light is back on and slowly realize that the lamp just doesn’t go with anything anymore. it just doesn’t fit in with any of your new things. and now that you realize that, you’re truly freed up to look around for the first time and understand that what you built while thinking about/worrying about/fixing the lamp is actually the home that you can gain the most joy from and you feel that joy right then and you finally understand the work it’ll take to maintain it and you take a step forward and that’s it.
Chuck Young is less the worst today than he was yesterday and less the worst yesterday than he was the day before that and he hopes to die the least worst he has ever been. He has published online and in print with various journals and is currently working on two children's books.
For more of his work you can visit Your Dead Best Friend Forever