I Have To Say I Love You In A Blog

 

Spring is here and love is in the air!

 

Well, it's not, but it should be and I'm about to do something about it.  I've planned a bit of a get together.  A soiree with four of my favorite people and the man who I've believed for years would be the love of my life, if only.........

 

I've picked the four people very carefully.  The men both bring out "the best of Billi".  They make me feel alive and giddy and girly.  He will love this.

 

 

Wolfie will arrive first.   He is usually the last to leave, but not tonight. There is no one who can get a party going better or faster.  But a small gathering can't be "balls to the walls" the whole way through.  That's where Edgar steps in.

 

He's a wild card to be sure, but his lively sense of the absurd makes the risk worth taking.  Not one moment will be wasted with silence or dull banter.  So long as the topics remain on the merely morbid and absurd not crossing the line into politics, Dorothy will be fine.

 

Her wit and Etta's voluptuous sensuality are qualities that I possess in ONE package.  A package that I hope my love will be unwrapping before the night is through.  He can't help but notice and be impressed by my confidence in inviting these fabulous women and my belief that they will enhance and not lessen my own fabulousness.

 

 







I considered inviting Tallulah Bankhead, but I'm not that confident....no one in their right mind is.

 

 

So everything is in place.  Brie with fruit to start.  Cornish game hens with an asparagus pilaf.  Wine, ale and whiskey.  (I know, I know "Should I really give this crowd alcohol?......It's not like I have to worry about killing them).

 

“I wish I could drink like a lady / I can take one or two at the most / Three and I'm under the table / Four and I'm under the host” ~ that Dorothy, what a hoot! (But good to know in case things don't work out as planned)

 

The music, of course will take care of itself.

 

Everyone is here, everyone but him.

 

And then he arrives.

 

 

 

I've known since I was about thirteen, when I realized that songs like Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown and Rapid Roy that Stock Car Boy and I Have To Say I Love You In A Song and Lover's Cross all came from the same beautiful mind under that curly beautiful hair, that he was my soul mate.  He was the man who imprinted a love for "sexy-ugly" men on me like a little duck.  He was the man who convinced me that "cool" is quiet and that "style" is being comfortable in your skin as well as with your feelings.

 

I've known since I was thirteen that this man died five years before I fell for him.  I've know since I was thirteen that I would search for and be attracted to men with some Jim Croce in them.

 

 

This blog was inspired by writer's block, a weird dream and a young man (I almost said boy, sorry Ryan) in my class who has Jim Croce hair that I want to touch like normal women want to touch pregnant bellies.