So off went Valentines Day. About another year before the next. I was sitting next to a somewhat (I think he was) over-sixtyish guy in a bookstore on the very day. He has a long grey beard and is wearing an Indiana Jones-esque hat (I don’t know what you call them, but it was white, not brown).
In case you haven’t figured out though, I wasn’t there with him. I’d really of let my tastes drop if I was. No, I was happily awaiting the company of a lovely (up until now I had used that term loosely) young girl. See, a few of my friends (who work at the store) were ready to surprise her with music and a big parade (her favourite song followed by a bunch of twenty-somethings dressed in ridiculous silver outfits–hey, it’s the best that a bunch of post-pubescent boys who read Spiderman comic books could come up with). They were doing it as a favour for me.
So as I strike up a conversation with this kindly looking man and tell him of my “ingenious idea” (yeah…I can see his bluish eyes pierce mine own with something about it that cries “laughter!.. you made me laugh for the first time in six centuries!”) he starts whispering to me.
“Use this time…” he says in a soft vibe, “…cause I’ll tell ya, when you reach my age you’re never gonna have these feeling(s) again… that tinge of excitement… that feeling of romance… when you get to my age, that part of you dies off… the girl you get is lucky to have you, because you’re energetic and young… later on, you won’t be so spirited anymore so it’s best she gets as much outta ya as possible now…”
Well, he didn’t use the word tinge, but that was more-a-less it.
It got me thinking, does this really happen? Once again I’ve been plunged into that “dark Xavier world” , and I’m scared that I’ll be like that when I’m an old man. Dispassionate about women, life and love. Unenthusiastic and unenergetic. Specially, to never have that “tinge” feeling again - it’s what makes life worth living.
And yet I feel it already. The presence of Death to my Romance. This Valentines Day was an exception. Next time, I may not be so lucky. What do I do? I can’t, as the song adage claims, “always look on the bright side of life”, for where’s the bright side in this?
Will I lose it all? I remember my brothers words - in fact it’s almost an identical echo to the old man’s - you will lose it, so use it… be as romantic when you are young as you can… this time won’t last forever… yet I want it to… I don’t wanna lose this feeling… and yet I feel it slipping away from me as I write.
The guys did a lousy job. They managed to wrap silver foil the wrong way round their heads (I know what you’re thinking - how the hell did they do that? Trust me, it’s possible), the song CD had “ripples” in it and my beautiful Ariella managed to get struck down by a book on the way out (and in case you’re wondering - it was an early edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, hard-back bound).
