i kissed a much younger boy in my dream last night. i was single. lips like butterflies. whispers of touch. i thought i was as young as he until i saw my reflection in the window. i was grey, wrinkled, tan. i was sleeveless and a thrill ran through me realizing i was old and yet still confident enough in the appearance of my upper arms to bare them to all. i find it interesting that my greatest surprise lay in the vanity of youth. not in the fact that, deep in my subconscious, i clearly envision myself a cougar.
i believe in new year's eve. i really do. i believe in it's fist-pumping overindulgence. i admire the glitter, even as it falls all over the floor and glorifies itself as the last tramp stamp of the season. i have always adhered to the idea that the new year begins on january the second. lately, however, i am bushy-tailed and full of energy on the first. more excited than christmas morning, dearsantapleasedon'tholditagainstme. the first of the year means something to me.
as hef told kendra when she left the mansion:
i love beginnings.