Mental Masturbation


She’s there at the airport to pick you.

You notice – to quote Robert Penn Warren – her “most lithe and graspable of waists” and that she’s wearing your favorite hibiscus hairclip you got her from Bali.

You also can’t help but notice that she looks so elegant in a Lisa Ho sundress and Bloch ballet flats.

In the car, your favorite Bloody Mary is in the chiller, and a cold towel waiting for you, your favorite music (Grieg’s “Morning”from Suite No 1 or The Flower Duet from Lakmé by Clément Philibert Léo Delibes) playing quietly in the background.

Despite the long flight, you feel refreshed, rejuvenated and so looking forward to be home.

You are home; you learned that she has left her studio early to buy you tonic soup and bird’s nest from Golden Century. She tells you that a bottle of 04 Two Hands Ares Shiraz is being decanted and she has prepared your favorite dessert of poached pears with flaked almonds and caramelized figs.

She asks about your trip while massaging your back; she tells you that she has booked Peter Gilmore’s Quay for an intimate dinner on Saturday evening. She reveals that your life-long dream of visiting North Korea and Laos are about to be fulfilled because she has made the necessary bookings. She also reminds you that next year’s cruise on board the Europa is confirmed and that it is about time to have a discussion about your next skiing holiday with the kids and the dinner would be a good time for that.

Upon hearing your voice, your kids bright and cheery storm out from their rooms, falling over each other to greet and hug you; they tell you with genuine sincerity that they’re so glad to see daddy back.

You beam with pride as you realize that they all speak with foreign accents – one studied in the States (Wellesley), one went to Dublin the other youngest just came back from Glasgow.

Ah…life as you wish it to be.

When old dreams die, new ones come to take their place. God pity the one-dream man.

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