When you are a �been there, done everything� kind of person you can expect a bit of d�j� vu now and again. The slightest sight, smell, sound or taste can bring a long hidden memory to the surface. Or not � as sometimes you know it is intimately familiar, just not from where.
In my teen years I dated a young man several years older than myself. Don�t �tut tut�. In those days your parents decided the appropriateness of a relationship, not the government. And although it was the summer between my sophomore and junior year � and he graduated the year before � my parents met him, and his parents, and everyone decided it was fine with them (with stringently enforced curfews, of course, and the typical parental exhortations regarding behavior).
My two best friends met his two best friends and it became a Saturday night sextet most weekends. (minds out of the gutter � sextet means SIX).
The boys would get the beer, and if you can believe such a thing, beer came in quarts back then. The boys would drive their �57 Chevys and a GTO out to a nice country road and we would all sit on the cars, share the beer (drinking right from the bottle), and smoke our cigarettes. Sometimes we would all go our own way, and sometimes we would all go somewhere together.
But at the end of the evening, there was always an hour or so left for another visit to the country road. And despite my parent�s beliefs in the appropriateness � we were (eventually) getting busy with something that would not likely be deemed at ALL appropriate.
As to that d�j� vu � I�m coming to it.
Earlier this week, I had the good fortune to spend a lovely couple of hours in the home of a delightful man I met some time ago. And by a couple of hours I meant we chose to get together and get busy with something that would not likely be deemed at ALL appropriate and as it was a work night I only had a couple of hours available. Again � no tut-tutting. I�m a big girl, I�ve never been all that �P.C.�, and in that area of my life I have no issues with choosing to be properly ravished by a delectable, unpredictable man without him having bought me dinner and drinks first.
At one point, during a particularly passionate kiss, that sense of d�j� vu was overwhelming. And unlike other times, I knew it instantly. You see, I rarely kiss someone who smokes. He does (but is so polite about it I hardly notice) and was enjoying a beer as he enjoyed me. And his mouth brought back a warm, comforting remembrance of those carefree teenage years when life was simple, hearts hadn�t been broken, and my soul still believed in Always.
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