Vampire lust

I want to go to Rio. Have some vampire sex.
My friend laughs. "I can see the eroticism start up in your eyes," she says. We are talking about my wanting to see Breaking Dawn, in which Edward n Bella consummate their wedding near Rio. Apparently, there's currently a surge in honeymooners booking packages to Rio. Bloodsucking honeymooner magnet.
Uhoh. Can friends actually see when my pupils dilate at the thought of entwined limbs n lips? That would be like a 1000 times a day this year. On aircraft, buses and trains; in embassies, clinics and parties...anything could trigger my pupils. (Which is why I'm getting responsive uber-creative home action on curvy, hollowed-out benches and stuff...Well, anything for better lurrvin'; no harm done!)
Six months ago, I took a two hour ride alone with a 24 yr old who had my ex's wiry curls and bone structure.
The driver was my uncle's friend's son. The father was my church sexton. (I' m sure you could call the father an altarboy or something, but in the context of this blog's mood, the word on top of my mind is sexton, so sexton he shall be).
So I was safe on that night ride thru lonely roads, yet insisted on enjoying the uncertainty of doubt. I sat next to the driver's seat, and kept him engaged, marvelling at how 17 years ago, I had met and loved a boy like this one, poor, ambitious and driven..but with connections which had brought him to a place where he now had time to study and go on speaking tours.
I had successfully recovered from a year in which my ex had helped me stay on in my marriage. We spoke for one month of that year, but I fought and prayed for the will to stay in my marriage all year, secure in knowing I had the support of someone who loved me enough to pray for me, and to let me go. My rational mind couldn't accept that his prayers were working, but by some metaphysical force, they had certainly taken effect.
In that heightened state of awareness of ex-memories, and alone for the first time in my life at airport check in, I hand over my passport and wait for the officer to return it, idly looking around me. I catch a glimpse of long slim legs in blue jeans, perhaps a white shirt, I think, but swiftly avert my eyes.
This was going to be a story about one day, today, but my preamble is so long, that I need a break. Till later,then.

Pre holiday

Checking in means no going back, so I leave that for the day of the flight. I cant cancel after I check in, and I or someone else might fall sick/ need to cancel last second.....but hey, I never fall sick, except for period cramps..which are a possibility too..but those I can fight.
By Sunday morning, I will be 6158 km away. In an emergency I can get right back in 7.5hrs .. plus an hour to drive to the airport from Gold Coast plus the 60 min check in time .. 9.5 hrs.
What am I looking forward to?
1. No chips on freshly manicured nails for a week
2. Re discovering the food I like...I've forgotten! Saying no to beef, saying yes to fish. Eating a vegetarian pizza with fresh mozzarella...and saying no to pepperoni. Food freedom.
4. Free time to write!
5. A completely unplanned holiday. I haven't yet wikipediaed, googled(except the weather) or booked anything except my flight. I do know I always have a booked refuge on Surfers' Paradise, courtesy my sis, so this is not exactly an adventure. An adventure would be when I have no one around!
6. Taking a flight alone the second time in my life. Remembered this time that I can actually choose my own seat, so I have mine on the aisle, with no one nearby, close enough to the emergency, and far enough from the toilets.
7.Deciding alone what to wear every morning. It could be my asymmetrical Zara "kite" top, or my red eyelet tank, and no one to protest. My sister says, "Dont wear much; it's hot," but I burn bad. So I have 50 SPF sunblock(the same I always use) and a friend's daughter's straw hat that's so large, I will never be able to wear it without sunglasses to prop up and keep from covering all my face.
Tim, celebrating his 40th birthday in Melbourne on the 14th, suggests 75 SPF, but the pharmacist laughs and gives me 50.
That's one party I m missing, Tim's. Well, it s just on the same continent, so it's like asking me to come to Lahore when I'm visiting Kochi.
Not packed, but ready to go, epilated all over, which is almost a waste cos of one man's fever and brother...yet worth the trouble.
Time to bike up to the beach and buy that halter swimdress which I can walk in, even if I wont swim much! Emirates, Brisbane, Gold Coast..here I come.