Food for the soul

I’m one of those people for whom music can trigger very vivid memories. Which would explain why whenever I hear The Gypsy Kings track “Bamboleo” it makes me want to rip all my clothes off.

I was reminded of this fact last night but first let me rewind you, by way of a silly explanation, to when I used to regularly stop by The Spanish Onion cafe during my lunch break. This was before Guido and I were dating, simultaneously removing each other’s clothing, or liberally spreading condiments onto each other’s bodies on a regular basis. Though I was definitely thinking about all of that. I was younger. I was thinner. I was still hopefully amoral.  I was also totally unaware how a tiger prawn fried in garlic butter could change the course of two gay men’s lives. Yet there Guido would be – behind the chilled glass counter with his big chopper – whipping up something utterly delicious for me. Of course all I’d be dreaming about was him whipping everything off me.

The reason I’m telling you these sordid details is because, in the background, The Gypsy Kings CD would be playing loudly. Naturally all that plucking and strumming would work me up into a post lunch frenzy. So there you have it folks, it was inevitable; sooner or later all my clothes would drop off.

Fast forward to last night and let’s just say familiarity breeds familiarity. That predictable but comforting end of week routine where Guido collapses on our sofa wearing nothing but his underpants. By the way, one leg of our leather chesterfield is still broken and is now propped up precariously with a can of chopped tomatoes. Anyway, I lay next to Guido debating whether it would be completely revolting if I added spray cream and vermicelli sprinkles to sliced banana on toast (by the way, it’s not).

“I guess this is what we’ve sunk to on an ordinary Saturday night,” I said, “you letting it hang out in all directions and me stuffing it in,” I licked my lips. “I mean, what the hell is next for us?”

Guido shrugged.

“This is what domestic bliss looks like kiddo,” he said waving his arm enthusiastically across the empty room, and I don’t think he was joking either.

I let out a long “hmmm” noise.

“Are you happy Guido, I mean, are you really happy?” I said staring at the ceiling pensively whilst considering another slice of toast. It was tempting.

“Oh God. We’re not going to have one of those conversations, are we?” said Guido sighing.

So I waved my arm just as enthusiastically as he had across the other side of the room.

“I mean, when you see me at the end of a long day, do you still feel the same way you did all those years ago?” I said picking a stray piece of banana stuck between my front teeth. Let’s just say it felt icky.

“Look. Why don’t we listen to some music and have some wine?” said Guido deftly changing the subject, “or is that too predictable for you?”

I hear a cork pop and the music start.

However after that my memory is kind of blurry. I’m not sure which came first. The wine or the music. Suffice it to say, you can probably guess what happened next.

39 thoughts on “Food for the soul

  1. We no longer question our mundane, ho-hum, routine existence. We just remind ourselves how lucky we were to find someone willing to eat tuna out of a can while sipping wine and watching re-runs of Cougar Town in our boxers. That, my friend, is true romance.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. “whenever I hear The Gypsy Kings track “Bamboleo” it makes me want to rip all my clothes off.”

    I feel you, JP. The Kings can get my mottor started, too. Luckily, Carlos is around when that happens!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. What happened next? Just as “Galaxia” was starting to play, there was a knock on the door. As the occupant wearing a shirt, you reluctantly got off Guido and went to answer it.

    Two Mormon “elders” still in their teens greeted you with a smile and a handshake. “Do you believe in the healing power of Jesus?” they asked. Too hopped up on wine and banana toast to think straight, you did exactly the wrong thing. “Yes,” you said, “but why don’t you come in and tell me more?” That was all the invitation they needed. Three hours later they had converted you and Guido (by this time wearing trousers) to Mormonism, and you pledged to tithe 15% of your earnings before taxes to the Church of Latter-Day Saints. No more would you lead sinful lives of carbs and sauces; from this point on the Spanish Onion would serve strictly Keto-friendly fare. To complete the trifecta, you and Guido both took out lifetime memberships to UKIP. Then, dizzy with the overwhelming manner in which you had turned your life around, you fainted unconscious on the couch.

    That’s my guess, anyways.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Old Lurker, you are so full of it! Anyone with half a brain knows that Jean-Paul and Guido converted the Mormons to the joys of wine, banana toast and gay sex. Those Mormons didn’t even know what hit them but praise Jesus and Joseph Smith, they’re happy and free now!

    Liked by 4 people

  5. …and that ladies and gentlemen is why I love Debra of “she who seeks” lmao!!!

    Anyway, I hope you don’t keep tempo with that music, otherwise you will get blisters where you really don’t want them!
    I would love to be stuck in the predictable and mundane with my soulmate.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. What happened next? Well if you were like most old (as in longtime old not sagging pecs old) married couples you both fell asleep with the Gypsy Kings on repeat. However I have a feeling it had something to do with peeling a banana.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Reading this made me happy. Your stories always do. I’ve known Balder Half for 48 years, together 45, married almost 44. We just got back from camping. It’s to the point where we say, if the camper’s rockin’ call 9-1-1 cuz somebody’s having a seizure! This song would probably kill us! You always make me laugh, thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

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