Sleepin' at the mansion

January 31, 2005 - 8:39 p.m.

So I hardly saw my pilot this weekend because he had to work, but Friday night I stayed at his house and he got up at 7 the next morning to go to work. I watched him get ready and he came over to the bed and smooched me goodbye with his uniform on, stripes on the shoulder of his white shirt. To die for. Really. The captain’s hat, the suitcase, the hardcover book on some war hero. I don’t know how I even live through these experiences.

There wasn’t any sex so don’t even ask. Trust me, you’ll be the first to know when it happens, you may even feel the Earth shake from your respective homes. He had asked me to stay over, and he gave me a tour of the whole house, and how everything works. He gave me the code to his house alarm so that I could sleep in and let myself out the next morning. Additionally, it was brought to my attention that there are various weapons all over the house and I slept with a gun next to my head. It wasn’t loaded, the clip was sitting right next to it. I thought that this would really, really upset me, but it actually doesn’t bother me at all so I guess I don’t have anything more to say about that.

Even though there wasn’t any sex, there was no shortage of wine drinking, gin spilling, smooching, and naked sleeping. Oh naked sleeping, how I love thee. What could be better than naked sleeping? When you’re naked sleeping, you want to be naked for the rest of your life. You want to climb out of bed and live as a nudist because you want to carry that feeling of naked sleeping out into the world, everywhere you go. God damn it, why can’t this be so? For being American, I sure do find myself running into a lot of restrictions of my freedom.

We watched his favorite movie, an old film called “The Blue Max” which is about fighter pilots in WWI. He pointed at the screen: “See that plane? I have that propeller upstairs. There are only a hundred of them in the world.” I was pretty drunk at this point but I think it was the Red Baron plane. His love for aviation fascinates me, and it’s so endearing I just look at him and beam with pride.

The next morning I got up by myself and kind of wandered around the house. I got one word for that: Scary. There’s a reason why scary movies always take place in big, old houses. It’s because there are so many rooms that you can’t see or hear, and you begin to wonder what might be going on in those rooms. There could be people in there and you wouldn’t even know it. Gypsies, raccoons, dogs playing poker. The possibilities are endless. I found out that his house was built in 1890-something, and his furnishings are from that same era, Victorian…or Edwardian…now I’m just talking out my ass. Anyway, the furnishings just add to that haunted-house feel, and after thinking about the weapons in every room, I couldn’t help but seriously think of his house as the Clue house, with the revolver in the bedroom, the knife in the library, the candlestick in the parlor. How fuckkin crazy is that? I’m dating a guy who lives in the Clue house.

So I made his bed all nice and then went to the kitchen and did all of his dishes and then made him juice so he’d have something to drink when he came home. I fed his cat and lowered the thermostat. I am totally the World’s Best Girlfriend. A week or two ago I had sent him a card in the mail that says, “You’re the Best” and he had it sitting out on the kitchen counter, right next to a gun. This cracked my shit up.

Next to the gun, he had left me a note saying, “Stop looking for the keys to the Porsche. They are well hidden. Thanks for a GREAT (underline-underline) evening!” HA HA HA. I had just told him that I had stolen the black sports car over New Year’s, so I guess he thought I might steal his black Boxster. I didn’t even know that he had a Porsche up until that point, because it’s stored in his garage for the winter. When he told me, fuck, I nearly swallowed my tongue.

I left him a note that said, “Thanks for the sweet naked lovin’. YOU’RE MY BABY.”

So it’s official people. He’s my baby. Only he doesn’t know it yet, because he’s been flying for days and hasn’t been home to read my note yet. Tonight, he’ll be my baby.

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