completely

He had no idea whether or not she wore make-up.

Even though he had spent countless hours staring at that face, he just… didn’t know.

If pushed, he’d guess that she did something with her eyes.  Because, really, it wouldn’t be fair for them to be naturally that stunning.

He knew other things though!

He knew what her forehead looked like when she was mad at him, as compared to what it looked like when she was just concentrating.

He rolled up the end of his tie.  Then he unrolled it.  Why did he pick this ugly tie?

Oh!  He also knew that sigh she let out when she was ready for the night to be over.  When she was ready to stop being “on.”  When she just wanted to shut down and have him nakedspoon her while they watched some movie that he was so excited about and which he was shocked that she had somehow never seen.

He stood up and straightened his suit.

He knew the feeling he got every time any part of her touched any part of him.  From the first time they shook hands, to last night when her lips kissed his chest.

Every single time.

He heard a woman’s skin referred to as being “like electric silk” in a movie once.  That was close.

He walked over to the mirror.  He looked up.  And down.  He wasn’t completely dissatisfied.

He knew to just listen when she was so happy about something that she was just going to talk.  Quickly.  For a while.  He loved that.  Even though it made him feel like a bit of an audience member, it made him smile.  Big.

He sat back down.  He crossed one leg over the other.  Which was something he only ever did while wearing a suit.  He noticed the slightest bit of a thread hanging out from the bottom of his left pant leg.  He pulled on it.  The loose thread got a little longer.

He had a vision of her coming out and finding him with his pant leg unraveled all the way up to his knee — despite the fact that this was an expensive suit and not a crocheted scarf, crafted by a 12 year old.  Then she’d stare.  And he’d “Uhm…”  And she’d say, “So maybe I took a little while to get ready?”

He laughed.

And then she did walk out.

He went to speak, but all that came out was “Whoa…”

“I’m very pretty, aren’t I?” she beamed.  And then she did that thing she does, where she looks towards the ceiling with just her eyes and makes the cutest faux-bashful face ever.

Ever.

She did a pirouette.  The bottom of the purple cocktail dress floated a little.

He stood up.

She smiled.

He shook his head in awe.

She did a little dance move that made the dark ponytail sway.

He didn’t know if she was wearing make-up.

He did know that he was completely fucked.

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24 Responses

  1. Shelley says:

    You really like purple, hey?

  2. Sarah says:

    Do other guys hate you?

    I ask because my boyfriend has a strong hate on for Damien Rice and Ross from Friends since, by comparison he looks like an emotionally paralyzed ogre who can really only express feelings of “hungry” or “rugby.”

    I feel like if I showed him your blog, he would be similarly irritated.

    Anyway, blah, blah, blah, I feel like I’m running out of ways to say i seriously adore your posts. This one is certainly another gem.

    • Peter DeWolf says:

      Haha. Well, thanks. I appreciate that.

      Would it help if you told him that I’ve wanted to punch Damien Rice in the face for years? (I have my reasons.)

      And would it also help to tell him that I wrote most of this post in my head while watching hockey highlights and rocking half a beard?

  3. Kara says:

    If I moved to Canada would you marry me? :)

  4. Sigh. Where IS this guy?

    (And she does wear make-up, she’s just very good at it.)

  5. Well, I was going to propose to you here in the comments, but it looks like someone else already did that up there. So… no go.

    Sorry man.

  6. BS says:

    The tie rolling is my favorite part.

    I make no claims to be normal.

    • Peter DeWolf says:

      It probably comes as no surprise that every single male character I ever write is (a version of) me, and that is exactly what I’d be doing in that moment.

      As well as pretending my tie is like a puppet snake of some sort. But that seemed to lack a certain poetry.

  7. So, is it or is it not too late to propose? Because if not…. will you marry me?

    MN is close to Canada.

  8. Matt says:

    electric silk huh?

    Ive been tasered before. Im not sure that electric silk sounds like a good idea.

  9. This was stunning. STUNNING!!!

    I swear I smile huge whenever I read your writing. You should write a book, or something. :)

    Also, purple is my favourite colour.

  10. Toe says:

    I love that new falling in love feeling where everything they do is amazing. It’s so wonderful to read that feeling in your writing to remind me what it was like.

  11. Angelina says:

    OMG OMG OMG! You’re alive! This whole time I thought you had packed up your baseball caps and left! I went overseas for a while and when I came back, the link to your site wasn’t working. I was reading Steph’s blog the other day and saw your comment. I am ecstatically happy to have found your writing again.

    This post is fabulous, as always. I guess the good thing about not having read you in so long is that I now have a backlog of writing to read! Yay!

  12. Doniree says:

    THIS –

    “He also knew that sigh she let out when she was ready for the night to be over. When she was ready to stop being “on.” When she just wanted to shut down and have him nakedspoon her while they watched some movie that he was so excited about and which he was shocked that she had somehow never seen.”

    Yes, that.

  13. ashley says:

    Goddamnit Peter. Stop being such a good effing writer for once will you?????? You´re making the rest of us look bad.

    You know I love your writing, and this was well….utter fabulousness.

  14. Ben says:

    Heavy (awesome) sigh.

  15. steph says:

    Pete, are you still single? If so, what in the fuck is wrong with women over there??

  16. Joe says:

    I love when her dress floated up a little bit. You could feel the breeze from her spin with that line.

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