The day arrived and we made it to Vegas! Lala and I were on separate flights, so she would meet Boy at the airport, they’d go ahead to the hotel, and when I arrived I’d find my own way there. I remember waiting for my luggage and wistfully thinking it would’ve been nice, though unnecessary, if Boy came back to the airport to get me. Just then I felt strong arms surround me as someone tall and fragrant nuzzled my neck.
And no, it wasn’t a baggage handler! What a man! I need only think a silly, spoilt, indulgent thought and there the Beautiful Boy appeared. He said the half hour trip in the taxi was precious time we could spend together. Ugh, I loved this man?
Ironically, the week in Vegas was the sanest, steadiest, most ordinary time we’d ever had together. Our suite was our home and Lala lived next door. We went grocery shopping and we cooked, we had cereal for breakfast and went out to dinner. We swam every day, saw the sites and did some outlet shopping. Sure, this was Vegas, so we went out a couple of nights, gambled a bit and saw a few clubs but mostly we had a laid-back chilled-out week just being together.
And it was wonderful. More wonderful, satisfying and serene than I ever knew it could be. I find it hard to describe the sense of wonder I experienced to anyone who’d never been in an entirely mismatched relationship. How the wrong personalities together just suck the energy out of both. How mind-numbingly, heart-breakingly depressing life can be when your every thought, every wish, every decision is analysed, criticised, taken apart and denied.