Self-deprecation is worth its weight in smoldering phoenix-ashes and baby unicorn tears.
You really know you do.
Published on February 29, 2008 By SanChonino In Dating

Another installment from the beloved country of Spain.  I must admit, I'm having one heck of a good time over here.  This is pretty sappy stuff, though, so schmaltz warning from the get-go.  (What can I say?  Situations like this make me ooze sap.  Like a tree.  A big, old, maple or somesuch.)

You know you all love it - that's why you keep coming back and suffering through my crappy sappy posts. 

(Same disclaimer as last time - BlueDev, Cedarbird, one word of this to the parents and you're toast.  And I mean it.)

--

26 Feb 2008.  9:24 pm.

As we were talking on Monday, the fact I play guitar and write music came up.  Suddenly she became like a woman obsessed - she was going to find a guitar and I was going to serenade her, end of story, no questions asked.

So we find ourselves roaming down side streets this afternoon, searching for a music shop.

She takes my hand firmly, our fingers interlocked, as she leads me down small, unknown streets.  We stop at the corner, gasping for breath from our frantic run down the narrow corridor.

I ask her where exactly we're headed, and if she has any idea where we can find a guitar around these parts.

She turns to me, and her eyes seem to smile even more than her luscious, perfectly-crafted lips.

Hillary leans ever closer, her deep hazels never leaving mine, until she's pressed right up against me.  She comes even closer, her mouth right against my ear.  Her breath is warm and my heart beats like a Virgil Donati drum solo.

She whispers simply:  "I have no idea."

She pulls back, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me on the nose.  With a fleeting glance, she takes off again down another thin road.  I smile and follow.

We never do find a guitar.

27 Feb 2008.  6:07 pm.

Hillary's class cancels this afternoon.  Seeing as how I'm done with class by eleven, she unexpectedly knock my door.  I'm knee-deep in a nasty critical analysis of a Thomas Hardy poem (and who would have thought that my hardest class, the one I have to work the most for, would be the English one?  Go fig) but Hardy can wait.  He's been around for one hundred years - chances are he'll still be around after lunch.

She asks where we're going as I grab my backpack, throw my books haphazardly across my bed, and stuff in my trusty Martha Stewart blanket.  I tell her to follow, trust me, and take hold of her cold hand, warming it in both of mine.

A quick trip to OpenCor and a knapsack full of lunch later, we trek up to the old part of town.  We arrive on the corner of the old walls, climb atop them, lay out the blanket and picnic.

It's beautiful, looking out over the sea on this clear, sunny day.  The wind whips past us up on the wall as she snuggles closer.  The store-bought sandwiches aren't great, but they do the job.  The splendid part is the apples - granny smiths, tart and crisp, popping with just the right snap and a rich, tangy flavor.

I clean up the trash, put it in the bag, and lean back, overlooking the Mediterranean.  Ships lumber across my view, to and from the port.

I put my arm around her and her head rests on my chest.  The breeze has a chill, despite the brightness of the noon-day sun.

Her breath smells like apple, mixing with the scent of her perfume as we cuddle.  She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a cigarette, and lights up.

Normally I would be repulsed, or at least nonplussed.  However, I find her alluring - everything about her, even the smoking.  I make a joke about lung cancer and all that, and she laughs and says she should quit.

Our topic of conversation morphs through dozens of iterations, from memories of growing up to favorite colors (mental note: her = green) to religion to what brought us to Spain.

The content ranges, but she's warm, she's there, and for a bit, she's mine.

I'm happy.

I'm pretty damn sure she is too.

--

So there's another installment.  I've set this to post later, testing out some of the features of Windows Live Writer.  Let's see if it'll post.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by.  We're going out on another date tonight, I'm sure you'll get the update in a few.


Comments
on Feb 29, 2008
Sexy!!
on Feb 29, 2008

I'm on the edge of cheering or being totally jealous...I think I'll cheer for now.

~Zoo

on Feb 29, 2008
Pulling the smooth moves eh, Sancho?

I'd be a bit dubious about dating a smoker myself, but I can understand the attraction of a smoking Euro. It's that whole seductive, perfectly accented ever-so-slightly unhygienic thing.

Just so long as she doesn't smoke in bed you'll be fine.
on Feb 29, 2008

So just coming in on your Spain adventures and all......I have to ask.....

is this a dream or the real thing SC? 

To add to what Cacto said...... on the smoking and knowing exactly where the Mormons stand on this......sometimes you're willing to overlook stuff when the heart starts beating hard, but this is when you've got to think about your convictions.......the things that seem alluring now most likely will bug the heck out of you months from now........

Of all the girls in Spain.....you had to find one with the name of Hillary? 

How long are you going to be in Spain SC?  A semester?   I'm jealous.  I wish I could be there.  I'd love to see the sights. 

 

 

 

 

 

on Feb 29, 2008
Who needs sights when you have a Hillary to look at.
on Feb 29, 2008
Hang on, hang on, I've just figured what this is all about!

Sanchonino is desperately in love with America's sweetheart, Hillary Clinton! This is all just an elaborate allegorical account of your secret shame!

on the smoking and knowing exactly where the Mormons stand on this......sometimes you're willing to overlook stuff when the heart starts beating hard, but this is when you've got to think about your convictions.......the things that seem alluring now most likely will bug the heck out of you months from now........


No way KFC, you've got to go for these things. A friendship may last a lifetime, but you never forget a holiday romance with an exotic foreigner.
on Feb 29, 2008

Awww, I'm so jealous, SanCho.   I'd love to go there someday!

Keep having fun.

on Mar 01, 2008

So just coming in on your Spain adventures and all......I have to ask..... is this a dream or the real thing SC?

 

Promise it's true.  Cross my heart. 

on Mar 01, 2008

No way KFC, you've got to go for these things. A friendship may last a lifetime, but you never forget a holiday romance with an exotic foreigner.

You've read my mind, Cacto . . . like I said in my first journal entry about her, I doubt this will go anywhere, and I know it's not going to last, but come on - what's better than an exotic girl in an exotic country?

on Mar 01, 2008

And to think my entire experience in Spain was watching The Blues Brothers on video in an Air Force hangar somewhere around Madrid.  ;~D

Keep up the stories SanChonino... hopefully you'll find a guitar soon!

BlueDev, Cedarbird, one word of this to the parents and you're toast.  And I mean it.

Don't tell them, tell your bishop. ;~D

on Mar 03, 2008

Sounds like a good time is being had.  I look forward to more stories.

on Mar 05, 2008

what's better than an exotic girl in an exotic country?

Two exotic girls in an exotic country?  Preferably both naked?

~Zoo

on Mar 06, 2008

Another nice entry to a beautiful story, mate.  Oh boy, are you going to be writing about this for a long time to come.

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