Have I expressed my deep, deep love for Thursday nights? For whatever reason, unbeknownst to me, he chooses not to leave the house on Thursday nights—perhaps she is working or something—and so tonight, once again, I got to hang with him in his room, just the two of us, he sitting in the chair, and I stretched across his bed with my head on his pillow and inhaling that intoxicating conglomeration of scents which make up his bedroom—spicy cinnamon candles, old romantic garage boxes, that sexy, sexy aroma that clings to him after he steps out of the shower…ohh, siiiiiiighhh….
We were watching TV when he said, “You know…the other day, I was thinking about The Lion King….” And he sort of trailed off.
I said, “Yeah?”
He said, “Well, in a pride, isn’t there generally only one male?”
“So…Mufasa birthed Simba…but if he was the only male in the pride, doesn’t that mean he must have birthed Nala, too?”
“EWWWWW!” I said.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. I actually came up with the theory a long time ago, but I was just thinking about it again the other day.”
The Lion King is screwed up, yo.
Oh, I have to share this. The other day we were walking through my neighborhood, up and down the sidewalks, and around that little street that I have only ever been through with him, and he was singing “Fly Me to the Moon” in his best Sinatra voice (which is honestly pretty good)…just because I said I had it stuck in my head.
So there we were, just walking up the sidewalk, and he’s singing Sinatra, and it looks for all the world like a scene out of an old movie in black-&-white, and he’s sung the first couple of lines:
“Fly me to the moon; let me play among the stars;
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter or Mars.
In other words—”
And then he stopped, just looked at me and said, “How’s it go after that?”
And I recall looking back into his eyes, heart racing swiftly along, and saying softly, “In other words, hold my hand…in other words, baby, kiss me….”
He just looked at me for the slightest of imperceptible seconds, then said, “Oh, yeah,” and picked up from where he’d left off.
It seemed like the sort of thing I’d have dreamt, but I didn’t; this actually happened. And for this reason, “Fly Me to the Moon” shall forevermore be my favorite Sinatra song.
I’m going to leave off there tonight, just because it’s such a blissful-sounding place to close.