Thursday, May 18, 2006

Amore


Over the past week, I’ve visited Peddler’s Village and New Hope, as well as several homes in the Buck’s County area on which my husband has done work. The homes in the area are mostly impressive restored old homes or new construction. The landscaping is as exquisite as most of the homes. I enjoyed seeing my husband’s building creations. He also showed me around Lambertville NJ, which is just over the river from some of his jobsites. He did some work on a cozy little hotel/bar in the quaint little shopping village. It reminded me of New Hope, which is on the PA side of the bridge. We also drove through Washington’s Crossing.

We also visited Philadelphia Park for the first time. It was entertaining to see the horses, but I was mesmerized by the jockeys. We watched two races from the view over the uppermost level in close range of the sports bar where I ordered a martini (and decided that I don’t really like them) and my husband smoked cigarettes and drank soda.

We also watched a race against the rail, right at the finish line. I watched the winning horse’s nostrils flare and her heaving chest as she recovered from the race in the winner's circle. I wondered if she was happy, as the owners hugged her for their photo op.

Anyway, the jockeys were such little people, just like I had seen in the movies. I joked with my husband that we would make great jockeys. He laughed. (We’re 5’ 8” & 6' 4") We went outside to the stables prior to the second and third race to watch the handlers circle the beautiful thoroughbreds. The horses’ hair was glistening and their bodies were sinewy and strong. I kept sneaking glances of the tiniest man I had ever seen in person. He had very small and shiny black riding boots. They looked like they belonged to a doll, which was quite a contrast to his very masculine, Italian-looking face.

We didn’t really understand how to bet, but we wagered on all three races based on the statistics we bought from a pamphlet at the front desk. The lady behind the desk was kind enough not to let me buy a paper, which she didn’t think we needed, and instructed me on how to read the pamphlet.

I picked winners for all three races, which doesn’t take a genius when they sell you the odds. However, we didn’t bet much given that it was our first time (and likely our last) – and we also bet on more than one horse. We also learned a little track lingo.

Last weekend, my husband and I also visited batting cages and hit a bucket of balls before I had his name tattooed on my ring finger. He had my name made into a wedding band on his skin the week before. I was waiting to get over a cold before I was ready to be inked for the first time.

I was nervous, but tried to play it cool, as I sat in the chair getting needled. It stung like 100 bees, but was over in a few short minutes, since the tattoo was only four tiny letters. Thankfully, it can be covered by my wedding band.

We were officially linked with ink, kind of like a second wedding, but with permanant black rings. Afterwards my husband said, “You’re a tattoo chick now -- and I forgot to tell you that I don’t like tattoo chicks”, as he smiled. (He doesn’t have to worry. I won’t be covering myself in ink. I like my skin just the way it is.)

We are trying to show to each other that we are still committed to each other and were willing to brand ourselves in order to prove it. My husband had my lips tattooed to the inside of his right bicep last month surrounded by the words “Jessica My Love.” He had my blue eyes tattooed to the inside of his left bicep the following week. It freaks me out every time I see it, especially when we are intimate because I feel like my mother is looking at me. (My eyes are exact replicas of hers.)

We are trying to spend more time together. Most of the time we have a blast when we’re hanging out, but we are both still full of anxiety and tend to be suspicious of each other. We’ve been arguing more than usual because we are both holding on too tight, and unwilling to let go.

I am hoping that as time goes on we can begin to trust each other again and find more easiness between us. Our sex life has grown more frenzied and intense. I believe that we are addicted to each other’s flesh and the pleasure that we bring each other.

Sometimes love is like getting tattooed and sometimes it’s like an orgasm, either way it feels extraordinary.

3 comments:

Joe Tornatore said...

tattoos last longer than orgasms.

jbgrinch said...

Hope that you two can keep it togther it is almost as hard to get rid of tattoos as it is to get rid of a spouse. I am pulling for you both.

love and prayers
jeremy

Hemaworstje said...

you are plain right , there definately needs to be fucked more.
animals do it more often then us , because we have a brain? that don't make sense does it?