John and I spent the weekend at the lakehouse. It was a wonderful weekend filled with relaxation and laughter. We don’t get many of those so we took full advantage. We arrived on Friday evening just in time to sit on the dock at sunset. It was peaceful sitting there side by side, staring out at the quiet cove. Even Mr. Cooper curled up contendedly on the dock and enjoyed the atmosphere.
John and I both love to cook. We especially like to cook together, listening to tunes and sipping on a cocktail. He calls it a “dance”, and really, it is. We work together and create something. The preparation itself is almost as delicious as the meal. We chop and saute and laugh and tell stories. We fumble around each other in the tiny kitchen and steal kisses here and there. Did you just puke? Anyway, Friday night we had creole grilled salmon atop asparagus stalks, topped with avocado relish. It came out perfectly. I have a feeling that meal will be on heavy rotation in the future. It was fantastic.
After that, I got my ass handed to me in a cuthroat game of Trivial Pursuit. I have won one game against him in the last ten months. He says playing with me feels like returning to the scene of a crime. He is a smug-ass winner, internet. I feel like they really should just leave the entire “Sports” category out and replace it with a “Sex in the City” category, perhaps. Just an idea. For example; “What is the name of Aiden’s dog”? Answer: Pete! See how that just flows better than batting averages and golf terms? I think so too.
Saturday morning was lazy. We rose late and had a fun breakfast. We decided to hit the lake with a cooler and a junkyard dog. We were out on the water for almost the whole afternoon, just cruising around and enjoying the sunshine. We stopped for lunch at a lakeside marina, but brought it back onto the boat. It was like a little floating picnic. I approach swimming in a lake much like I approach eating store-bought chili. I have to be a little bit drunk, otherwise I think about all the things in the lake/chili and get creeped out. That being said, I only jumped in once to cool off and I was back on the boat within 30 seconds. I apologized to Johnny for having to view my thighs while sober and in the daylight and we were back on our way.
We returned to the house and decided to watch The Sopranos finale. I’ve watched all 6 Seasons in the last few months, and we saved the final episode to watch together as Johnny thinks it’s the best ending to a show he’s ever seen. I thought it was pretty brilliant, but I also could see the other side of it and understand why so many people were angry at the outcome. However, I enjoy the fact that they didn’t wrap it up neatly and predictably. Life isn’t like that, after all. Same with “No Country for Old Men”. I like when you’re left to arrive at your own conclusions.
After that Johnny and I hung a dartboard on a lakeside tree and I proceeded to lose my ass… again. John casually mentioned that he hasn’t picked up a dart since we were in college. We used to work at a bar together twenty two years ago and there were many nights that we’d hang out after locking up and play darts while re-hashing the evening. If you’ve worked in a bar, you know what I’m taking about. Everyone pours a cold one and comes down from their shifts. We were college kids, it wasn’t like we had somewhere to be. We’d swap stories, play tunes and play darts. Often I’d walk back to my dorm room while watching the sun rise. It was at that bar our bouncer, “Bear” taught me how to play darts.
Having said that, he cleans my clock. Again, a BOASTFUL smug-ass winner. I think I hit the tree more than the actual board. Next time he gets cocky he may find himself removing a faded plastic shitty dart from his thigh. Just sayin’.
The rest of the evening was spent grilling and having cocktails. We took the boat out again for a quick ride at dusk. This time we actually took the trivia game and played on the little table on the boat. Okay, I realize that is totally gay but it was awesome. The water was looked like glass and the temperature was perfect. We also watched a complete and utter douchebag make a fool of himself water skiing, laughing and high-fiving every time the numbnut crashed into the water.
This weekend was absolutely perfect. In fact, it was so perfect that as I sit here typing, I feel a little let down upon my return to reality, and more than a little bit lonely. I know it won’t always be this way, just like I know weekends won’t always be like this last one.
I think it’s kind of like how I perceived the Soprano’s finale. The future is uncertain, but I know that as long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.