11 February - Mouth & Shut

You never stop learning what's good for you. Maybe I finally learnt to keep silent, don’t say nada when the little runaway train of thoughts in our mind makes you want to duck out, say you’re not entirely happy, not all your needs are being met, you’re paranoid, you’re insecure, you want names, numbers, percentages, signatures on contracts. Even if it’s a recent fragile and delicate tiny thing. I was tearful at the cinema, recalling other movies from which I simultaneously exited the building and walked away from the person I was with. Not there and then, but the movie was the catalyst. Usually the actual plot with its strong reminder that either I didn’t have the same things and feelings that on the screen appeared a matter of life or death, or some other portentous message. ‘Three colours Blue’ by Kieslowski springs to mind. I never even turned to look back at 'him'.
I kept thinking ‘Don’t know how to say it’ and trying to distil it into something that made sense (our thoughts don’t always make sense to others) and at the same time was not hurtful. But this search for perfection led nowhere, so for once I didn’t say it.
So we left the movie, we went for crab and eel in Chinatown. He treated me to both. We caught the bus back, and looked at the shop windows on Oxford Street. At home we watched the Pink Floyd documentary on the making of Dark Side of the Moon even though their music means nothing to him. We went to bed and all the time we chatted and had fun. We woke up, we had sex and he fucked me in a novel and interesting way, well for us, for now. He made me tea. He lent me his sunglasses when we walked out in the morning sun. He took me to his favourite places in the hood: coffee at the Oporto, admiring fish at Steve’s, the famous fishmonger, choosing tuna steaks for later. We had more breakfast at the Spanish Deli. We nearly bought a beautiful Pakistani rug for his house. We walked back through the tourists and the locals in Portobello, but we were happier than them. We bought a shirt for him and a top for me ad the Dispensary, then a coat for me at Joseph. Then incredibly satisfying chocolates at some fancy new place on Ledbury Rd, and giggled and were a bit scared at how much money we'd spent on clothes. Then we admired the Vivienne Westwood shoes I have my sights firmly on and he nearly spent more money again by buying a suit at Agnes B. We went into the Boudoir shop and I let him stare at the gorgeous sales assistant by letting her give us a detailed tour. We had a coffee with Susie at Beach Blanket Babylon, (she whispered ‘He’s so nice!’). We walked back, we agreed he’ll cook for me on Valentine’s at home and I’ll wear high heels to push my ass out like the black girl he admired there. He drove me up the road and dropped me off at Alex’s for tea. He kissed me goodbye and he’ll call tonight after his yoga class. And the sun was still shining at 4pm.
And none of it would have happened if I had opened my big mouth and said ‘whatever’ on Friday evening after the movies and then surely would have gone home miserable. And on the bus as further self-punishment.
And today I wouldn’t know how to find my way back to how perfect it can be.