the most romantic table at denny's, please.
the blue dots on our shared locations inched toward each other, closing the 370-mile gap between two people who for the last six months have built a slow, steady friendship between the two of them. my bag was packed with snacks and vinyl and my bathing suit and pajamas. we’d always talked affectionally about meeting at the denny’s in blythe. in many ways, denny’s was a mecca of sorts – a pilgrimage to a place of what ifs and maybes. but denny’s was also a playground. we’d invented the name of our server (shirley), debated our shared dinner item (rooti tooti fresh n’ fruity), and decided we would share a milkshake – you insisting that i would choose the flavor. it reflected what i’ve come to love about our friendship: the simultaneous silly and serious that we so easily slalom through.
and after three hours of driving across california, there you were, walking out of the holiday inn express into the parking lot to meet me in the 112-degree heat. you were as beautiful as i imagined as you made your way toward me and soon our bodies were hugging, front to front, our lips meeting, eager with anticipation and comfort. it was everything i thought it may be: a balance between willing myself to get out of my head but also letting go and enjoying the moment. it felt like several minutes of bliss.
we had this clumsy, newlywed way of being with each other in those early moments. everything felt both new and familiar at the same time. it’s wild how easily we fell into synchroneity. our hands found each other, our lips found each other, our thoughts found each other. multiple times one person said something that the other person was thinking – the dude bros by the pool, asking karen for her recommended swimming spot, etc. – and it was as if we’d embodied the spiderman meme that has punctuated the last six months of our friendship.
those early moments also felt so comfortable. us working on our laptops side by side up in the hotel room, listening to sounds for plant lovers as our pinkies interlocked in a soft and gentle way. the way we stole glances at each other, stopping to kiss each other’s cheeks or rub each other’s legs. there was peace. there was ease.
within the hour our best-intentioned plans to get changed into our swimsuits and head to the pool was waylaid by our bodies’ desire for each other. you were on your front and i climbed on your back, closing my eyes and hugging you from behind – you feeling the full weight of me against you. that embrace turned into a massage and playful sharing of the same pillow. then, to sweet kisses and mouths panting. to pleasure and maneuvering and laughs and desire. it was wonderful to see you in that afternoon light – a person i had met only briefly months ago and slowly over time on the phone and through a screen. to see the contours of your face, to feel your rough hands, to smell your skin. gosh, the dozens of times i buried myself in the side nape of your neck. it felt like home.
we eventually made our way to the pool. and like two adolescent spring breakers unable to keep their hands and bodies away from each other, we swam. me, my legs around your waist. and you, parading me around the pool. i felt your body pressed up against mine and for that moment, nothing else mattered. we switched positions, now with your legs around my waist as i hoisted you up and paraded you around the pool, in a reverse-gender-role type of moment. you slowly laid on your back and closed your eyes to float with your legs still around my waist. i softly spun you around, like a scene out of the movie moonlight. you looked up to catch glimpses of me and when your eyes were closed i studied your profile, the hairs around your belly button, and the moles on your skin. i thought at that moment how much you needed this -- to feel unencumbered by stress and life and worry. i thought about how much you’ve been through the last several weeks and how much you are facing in the next few months. i thought about how i just wanted peace for you. and so i continued spinning you around slowly, despite the fact that i felt silly and slightly laugh-attacky as the group of people sitting by the pool stole glances at how silly we looked – you wrapped around me, me floating you like a child. you were so beautiful in that moment, so at peace.
perhaps from the drive and the intimacy and the pool we found ourselves hungry. you remarked that i was sassy when i was hungry, which was true. we headed back up to the hotel room as we prepared to eat at denny’s – a monument of sorts in my head given how much it was built up. there was a soft ritual that is often shared between two people in intimate spaces as they get unchanged and changed for an evening out – the busying of yourself, the pampering, the checking in on each other and then the agreement that both of you are ready. as we headed out the hotel room, i noticed that you had slipped the privacy sign on the doorknob and smiled. we wrapped our arms around each other’s waists and we headed down to your pickup truck for the quarter mile drive to the denny’s.
in many ways dennys was like everything and like nothing i had imagined in my head. it was somehow brighter and busier than i envisioned, and yet, perfect in its own way. we did the thing we joked about – asking the host for his most romantic table and he gestured to the dining room telling us to take our pick. naturally, you moved toward the one i was thinking about and we sat on the same side of the booth just like we had planned. i noticed you were more mellow than earlier – perhaps more relaxed, likely more tired and also maybe cautious? and yet our bodies still found each other in that booth, your hand on my thigh, my hand in your thigh, and we talked and joked and reflected on how grateful we are. it’s one of the things i appreciate most about you/us – our gratitude. we are constantly affirming each other, expressing our gratitude for each other in our lives, and making it known how much value the other brings to our life.
dinner was delightful and we laughed as we stopped at the restroom on the way out and smelled that poop smell that one reviewer had noted on google when he gave this specific denny’s a one-star review. i felt seen by you when on our way you out you tugged me back toward the restaurant, proclaiming that we should take a picture before leaving. it was something i wouldn’t have insisted on but i was so glad you suggested it. the sunlight from the setting sun was perfect as you wrapped your hands around my waist and we smiled for the photo. we looked so happy. golden hour at the denny’s. you remarked that no matter what city we found ourselves in in the future, we should always find a denny’s close to a highway to patron.
after denny’s was perhaps my favorite part of our 18 hour super-sonic lesbian date. we drove out to the colorado river – at first led astray by karen who sent us to a rather inaccessible part of the river – but then righted again once we found a beach-like area a mile or two down from the highway. it was a beautiful scene. the mountains purple, the moon rising and bright, dragonflies dancing around the water. we put down our blanket and like two teenagers we got naked and changed into our damp suits on the riverbed – slowly wading into the water as the current moved slow and steady around our bodies. we spent most of the time in the river in a deep, silent embrace. i learned quickly that i like being silent with you and just hearing your breath and kissing your cheek and being present. sometimes i think the connection between two people can grow even deeper in moments of silence, and i feel that with you. as the sun set, we slow danced right there in that river to chance the rapper and brittany howard and i quietly mouthed the words in your ear as i was determined to take it all in and enjoy the moment.
instead of hurrying back to the hotel, we got dressed, climbed the steps back up the river embankment, and stood in awe as dusk turned to night with those deep oranges and deep blues of the sky engulfed by the growing darkness. the moon hung overhead, oh so bright, and we decided to climb into the back of your truck and settle in to watch the last of the daylight. i asked you silly questions like when your body last felt scared or what was the favorite year of your life so far. we made up stories about the people driving by in their cars – where they were going and who they were. you pointed out a bat that was fluttering about and i realized how much i had to learn from you. that moment in the truckbed was wonderful, and as we crawled out to venture home, i gawked at the moon – its fullness and its brightness.
we took the eleven-minute drive home on a service road that ran parallel to the highway – now the night enveloping us as we cruised through blythe with the windows down and bad bunny loud on your truck’s speakers. it felt light and fun and right --- again that ease and simplicity surfacing again to assure me all would be okay. we parked back at the hotel, walking in hand in hand, eager for the remainder of the evening.
the next few hours were a blur in the best way. the low lighting of the hotel room. the grass and the pillaging of snacks. the massages and the playlist. the kissing and the intimacy. the sleepy two a.m. conversation about what happens next and then the soft noises we exchanged as we settled into slumber. sleeping next to you was my second favorite thing (after the colorado river dip) and i felt so lucky throughout the night as i turned and adjusted to know your body was there – right next to me. it’s odd as a forty-two-year-old to feel lucky. lucky is an emotion that in my head is reserved for children. but these past six months i’ve felt totally awash in feelings of gratitude and luck. i tell myself that if our friendship would cease to exist, i would be okay because i was lucky to have these six months with you and feel so seen and appreciated. i feel so very lucky to know you.
all night i had that slightly panicky feeling i used to feel when i was young and in love. it’s that hint of dread as a clock flashes those passing early morning hours, and you know that the time between two young lovers is coming to an end as the sun starts to rise. the morning was itself wonderful. to see you in all your morning beauty – two humans now unadorned and wearing their utmost vulnerability as they lay in bed side by side, softly kissing and talking and reflecting. we had a rough plan for us – the grief rings and the promposal and the agreement to periodically see each other every month or so.
as you helped me load my belongings in the car, i wasn’t sad to leave you for some reason. i felt only incredibly overwhelmed with gratitude that we had even made it this far. you periodically remind me, remember when you said we would never meet in real life? look at us now. yes, look at us now. i feel so taken care of by you and so seen by you. i simultaneously want to take care of you and see you. two gloves, truly falling in love with each other in this slow, nontraditional manner. i can’t wait for more super-sonic lesbian dates with you in random denny’s around the world, insisting on the most romantic booth as we share a milkshake together, holding hands, and being supremely grateful to be in each other’s orbit.
