Those who know me can attest to the fact that I’ve never embraced a decadent lifestyle.
I’m far too disciplined for such folly. I was more prone to the other extreme.
There was a time when I carried around The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius in my back pocket for continual reference as it was my full intention to spend the rest of my life being a true Stoic.
In other words, someone who chose to live an austere life of studied simplicity, wanting for nothing. The Stoics had determined the source of all suffering was desire. So they got rid of it.
Get rid of desire and you get rid of suffering. Made perfect sense to me.
I lived some version of the stoic philosophy for 16 years (and an extreme version of it for four more), until I realized:
I WAS HAVING NO DAMN FUN AT ALL.
As my AP’s recently transplanted Argentinian date said to her: I want to have a smooth time with you.
That really about sums it up because I too, have determined:
I want to have a smooth time with me too. With life in general.
Now this doesn’t mean that I’m going all-out Roman or anything, (eating numerous seven-course meals a day and throwing up after each one so you can do it all over again is not my style), but giving yourself permission feel spoiled, or allowing someone else to spoil you, is another matter entirely.
Enter: Al Pacino’s second cousin Scar. (I kid you not).
My AP called me up the other day and said:
“Have you got a few hours? Scar wants to take us for lunch.”
“Does this mean I have to get out of my ripped cut-offs (my signature writing gear) and actually put on a bra?”
“Yes. And wear a dress.”
“A dress? Get outta here!”
“C’mon. How many times do we get to dress up and go for lunch? Just do it. You’ll be glad you did.”
So after much confusion as to what had triggered such an occasion (I need a reason for everything), I reluctantly put on a casual black dress, went back to working on the book (sitting very unladylike in my chair) and waited for the familiar front door buzz alerting me to the fact that my carriage was waiting.
When my duo arrived, I climbed into the back seat of the vehicle (after Scar promptly opened the door) and was handed a little bag.
“What’s this?”
“A little something. Scar always brings a little something.” replied my AP from the front seat looking all gorgeous in her little Italian number.
I opened the bag. In it there were two bottles of nail polish. Sweet!
So exactly who is this gift-bearing, movie-worthy Scar character?
Apparently he’s Al Pacino’s second cousin (not that they know each other personally) and he’s an old friend of my AP’s.
They’ve known each other for some twenty years. He adores her to bits - always has and always will - and frequently refers to her as ‘amazing’ though nothing romantic remains whatsoever of an old connection they once had. (If there was, I would know about it - there are no secrets between AP’s).
But the one consistent reputation Scar maintains (and is proud of), is how well he treats the people he cares about. Especially the women, who he thinks are deserving of every European-invented decadence because they embrace the female form and should be taken care of in a manner that reflects the status their gender incites in mythology.
In other words, women are a special invention of the Gods, without which life would not be worth living.
And as Scar said the first time we met: “Any friend of Bonnie’s is a friend of mine”.
Lucky me.
stay tuned for PART II - The Longest Lunch Ever.
