Love you too?

It's funny when at 15 all I wanted was to hear the three little words, I-love-you. It's funnier still that 20 years later I think I still like hearing those little three words, although they throw me into panic and suddenly fill me full of doubt which translates into sarcasm. At 15 I was woman enough to retort back with three other words, love-you-too. And I meant them. It was just like playing the grown-up game, and somehow it felt good. Now, when I don't have to play the part of a grown up, because the years have caught up on me, I guess I don't want to be a grown-up anymore. And that includes the I-love-you's. Ok I cannot go without hearing them, because I cannot exactly put people's tongues on remote control. But why throw me into blind panic? Just three words? Perhaps because it's expected, as part of the courtship in human behaviour, to say something back. I-love-you might come as a statement, but it really is a question and one expects an answer. It is the hardest of statements crafted so craftily that it's got to have an answer. It's not as if I cannot say the three words back, I say plenty of I-love-you's to my cats, and I really love them. They answer me in their own feline way, and such a precious way too. It is so easier to respond to an I-want-to-make-love-to-you, because it stands on a statement on its own, doesn't need a reply, and many times it is not even said. Body language takes care of that. Screams also rate the truth behind that. And it's not as if I'm not sure about an I-Love-you too. But somehow, the devil catches my tongue and I am speechless. So I have tried to go about it in a roundabout way. Smiling. It's one step better than sarcasm. Maybe it's time I went to Kindergarten again. They have their I-love-you, you-love-me Barney song in there too. Perhaps if it's set to music, it will make it easier. Love you too honey.

Smoking scream

I was just talking about screams in the bedroom. The ecstatic kind. Now I discover there are other kinds of screams, like the one I was doing in the early morning. Alas, I have to give it to Him, smoking and bedrooms do not go together. I have kept my ground for years, on the theory of, sorry, I'm a smoker, I smoke everywhere and anywhere, if you don't like it well..... And I've smoked in bed, because somehow a smoke is the perfect thing to make me go to sleep. The problem is that of course then my cigarette pack lies on the nightstand, and since I have not yet mastered the art of sleeping all through the night, I get up to smoke. I thought it was strange but if it helped me drift off again, then a smoke was a small thing to do. Not anymore. I have burnt so much bedding, duvets, pillows, and myself in the process. Now I've really done it and burnt the mattress, and I only got to know when the burning hole burnt me in the process. Pain is a big wake up call. I must have drifted off sooner rather than later. It's also a good thing I was hit with the pain, or I could have burnt the whole room up. Mattresses can be replaced, rooms even, but people? And I screamed, a very different kind of scream as to what I was talking about. It was a scream of oh shit something's painful, then the scream of oh God the bed's on fire, until I doused it with Diet Coke. And now I have to put up with all the I told you so's. And it also makes me want to scream, because He was right after all. Never smoke lying down. It could kill you, and not because of the tar.