She Will Have Her Way.

It was the  best of times and it was the worst of times, right?

The dinner was long and languid, the pinot, almost tart accompanying the roast lamb, and other morsels. All of  which I ate, despite this whole vegan experiment, despite a few things to be honest…

There were two really special conversations of extreme significance, which I shall write about throughout the course of the weekend, not now, too new, not now.

Life is for living, I am told, as I clear the table.

I am asked questions about my life that I can’t answer.

A lot of them.

My answers must be brief, as everyones in a hurry. You know. To catch the next bit.

I’m not much for talking today.

This can often me misinterpreted. Often.

This is fine.

I am then reminded of a time when I all but stole my fathers car one weekend and drove some 2,000km to see about a boy.

Oh yeah… Here we go…

A family friend enters the room and asks me to give her a tutorial on Facebook.

Noticing a man on my screen she relays to me some sage advice she’d offered me years and years ago when I’d driven those 2,000km in one day and was so tired and fucked up I barely managed to make my flight… but I did… just…

Remember, Ally, she begins…

What I told you, all those years ago… You only get four lovers.

I giggle.

Four? Only four? You sure?

She details them as follows:

1. Your first love. The one never to be forgotten.

Yeah. Ok. I’ll buy that.

2. The evil one. You know the one.

Yep, yep, get that.

3. There to remind you of just how far you’ve come.

True, true.

4. Is the good one you settle for.

So which one is he? She asks as she refills her glass and lights a cigarette.

Which one is he?

“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash…”

– L.C.

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