A DATE WITH AN OLDER WOMAN
May 7th 2012 22:06
If you’ve been to Teneriffe before, then you would’ve seen the River and the trees. You would’ve seen the semi-expensive lofts and the semi-expensive restaurants and the bars and the people with the skinny jeans and The London Club, and Salon, and Mizu, and the quiet lack of traffic at night.
We were in a restaurant in Teneriffe and we’d been eating for a while when Candy suddenly looked at me. “You’re so young.”
“I know,” I said. “Jealous?”
She smiled at this. “Honesty: what do you think?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I used to think that honesty was important when it comes to relationships.” She cleared her throat, wiped her mouth with her napkin and continued: “But all it seems to do is hurt people.”
“Again,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
She giggled. “I mean, like, for instance, when I tell a partner that I’m out with another guy, or if I tell a partner that I think he’s gaining weight, or if I tell a partner… I don’t know, something honest, I find that all this honesty seems to do is offend them or turn them away from me.”
“We all hate the truth. But honesty is something that needs to happen.”
“Does it really? I know it has its place, but is it something that always needs to happen?”
“I find that women also hate the truth, yet they complain when they don’t get it. In the end I figured it’s all about delivery. Honesty works if you deliver it well,” I said. “Anyway: New York, the islands of Greece or Ipswich: if you could go to any of these places, where would you go?”
“Ipswich.”
“You’re the most honest person I’ve ever met.”
We finished and headed to Claret House and had a few drinks and we spoke about our past relationships (for some reason she kept wanting to talk about past relationships), and as we had more drinks we befriended some strangers and we befriended the friendly owners. But the only thing I really wanted to do was kiss her.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
We walked through some buildings and found the Brisbane River. It was tremendously quiet. For a few minutes we simply looked at it, at the little dots that reflected from it in the darkness.
“I like this.”
“You like what?”
“Just this quiet.”
We stopped looking at the River and walked further down the walkway; she kept telling me things that I couldn’t be bothered listening to. “I want to kiss you,” I finally said.
“No,” she said. “You can’t.”
“Okay.”
“Not yet, at least.”
I smiled.
We walked to my car, holding hands.
| 30 |
| Vote |













Add Comments
Comments (1)







