Situationship

I’d let her get away with it too many times to count.

At 83, she had the energy of a woman less than half her age and the sex appeal of a 20-something. That’s what always drew me in.

Our relationship was ridiculous, and I’d always walk away saying, “You do NOT need this,” but then I’d run into her in the most obscure places, usually right before a party. Inevitably, I’d take her home at the end of the night. She was just so goddamn fun!

Always the life of the party, always the center of attention, always the woman of the hour. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her. She was loud, eccentric, funny, bright. She didn’t need to say, “Look at me,” to be seen, she simply was.

She bounced from person to person with an electric presence so striking, a look so bold, she had to be shared. She couldn’t possibly belong to just one other person. And I couldn’t possibly keep up and be with her every. single. day. It would’ve been too much. She was the type of woman you used just every so often, but the nostalgia, the whimsy she inspired? Priceless.

I had to let her go – even though the thought of her caressing my feet, my neck … it was almost too much.  

But maybe just once more, for old time’s sake? It doesn't have to mean anything. But I’ll want you forever, Betsey Johnson.