Easy Living UK, May 2011
It was a sticky Friday night on campus. The stench of spilled beer was familiar, as was the bass guitar on Brick House. But many years had elapsed and we were no longer college students. We had all convened – The well preserved and the pot-bellied, the triathletes and the cancer survivors – to reclaim something. In preparation, I’d had fresh highlights and a facial, which removed “free radicals” that were apparently eroding my skin and with it , my youth. It’s the conundrum of the march of time that, inside, I felt the same as I did 25 years ago.
When I spotted my freshman boyfriend, I started through the crowd and greeted him. I folded into his body by instinct, as if his arms and mine wer aware of our former intimacy.
“You look the same,” I said.
“So do you,” he replied. “Come over and meet my wife.”