Moon River

June 2005 By fanula59@hotmail.com  

How can you tell if a guy really loves you? Does he kiss you on the lips after he’s cum? Does he buy you flowers? Does he share your shower and sink? I suppose it’s sometimes hard to know the difference between love and a fetish.

Last night I lay in his tiny single bed with his arm under my neck and his prickly stomach hair on my back, and I lay there awake trying to figure out if he loved me or not. It doesn’t help, I suppose, that it’s a question lots of people ask. "Does he love you? Do you love him?" How should I know?! It’s not something you can just ask, like "When did you first realise you could wank?".

I sat up in bed with his head on my chest, and Moon River came on the TV, and for the first time ever, I tried to figure out exactly what it means. If two people are "both after the same rainbow’s end", then they must be destined to love each other. This is what I decided, even though I don’t believe in destiny.

Shortly after that, I bought a Frank Sinatra CD, and listened to Moon River on a loop. In many ways, it raised more questions than it provided answers, but I was willing to be patient in my search for the truth. This was very important to me, as I don’t have a lot of time to waste. I didn’t understand the lyrics entirely. It seemed obvious that the moon river was a metaphor for a human being, but I couldn’t be sure whether it was meant to be a beautiful woman or a trustworthy companion. Either way, it made the line "I’m crossing you in style, some day" seem very strange indeed. After a while I began to wonder what a river had to do with it all anyway.

That night he came over to my place, and I lay there pinching his arse, while he kissed my chest and shoulders. I tried to forget about Moon River and it’s stupid metaphors and symbolism or whatever, but I couldn’t. He looked more like a river that night than he ever did before, because the moon shone through my curtain, and the light was blue and watery on his chest hair. I felt sure that wherever I was going, I was going his way.