The PlayboyRandom Gentle Sex Master (RGSM) Clean. Smooth. Successful. You're The Playboy. You're spontaneous, and your energy is highly contagious. Guys therefore find you fun to be around, and girls find you compelling. You have lots of sex, and you manage it all without seeming cheap or being hurtful. Well done. You probably know karate, too. It's obvious to us, and probably everyone else, that you're after physical rather than emotional relationships, but you're straight up with potential partners. And if a girl you want isn't into something casual, it's no big deal. You move on. BEFORE sleeping with her. Usually. At least you try to. Such control is rare. If you're feeling unfulfilled, maybe you should raise your standards. New conquests will only be satisfying if there's a possibility of rejection. Your exact male opposite: The Mixed Messenger  Deliberate Brutal Love Dreamer Always avoid: The Playstation (RGSM) Consider: The Dirty Little Secret (DGSM), The Nurse (RGSD) |
| Link: The Online Dating Persona Test | OkCupid - singles | Dating |
Oct. 26th, 2008
Rain
It was raining the day that Elaine Maxwell died. Ian had watched his father struggle with the knowledge that while he had saved so many lives in his career as a doctor there was simply nothing he could do for his wife. He'd heard the whispers of family friends as they left Elaine's room during various visits.
"It's better that she is going quickly."
"If she lingered she would have suffered."
"If there is anything you and Ian need, Tom, don't hesitate to call."
Elaine had insisted on dying at home. She couldn't stand the smell of hospitals, and she wanted to be comfortable and surrounded by familiar faces and things. Ian wasn't sure if he was grateful or resentful. On one hand he didn't have to deal with a sterile hospital environment and watch his mother slowly fade away. On another, the house would never feel like home again now that he and his father had spent those months waiting and praying for a miracle that wouldn't come.
The rain had made Elaine smile despite the fact that her breathing had become hollow. She'd always liked the rain. When Ian was a little boy, she would bundle him up in a rain coat and rain boots and follow him out so they could splash in puddles together. His father hadn't approved. Not only did it make a mess, but it could have gotten them both sick. Ian had loved the rain as much as his mother did up until the day she died.
He'd hovered in the doorway during those final hours. His father sat at her bedside, holding her hand, promising her that it was okay for her to leave them. They'd be alright. They'd take care of each other. Ian had wished he was as brave as his father. As selfless as his dad so that he could tell her it was okay that she left them. He wanted to be able to lie and say they'd be okay without her. He wondered if she believed his father's lies.
Ian couldn't say the words, but to his credit he hadn't begged her not to go either. He'd whispered, "I love you," before kissing her cheek. Then he'd moved to the doorway, leaning against it, and waiting until hollow breaths slowed completely. When she'd taken that last breath there was a moment of silence before his father let out a sob that made Ian's stomach knot up. Only once before had he heard his father cry. He'd lost a patient that was just a child. He'd taken it too personally and couldn't leave his work at home. In the last few months his home, his bedroom, had been turned into a virtual hospital room.
Ian wondered how his dad would ever be able to see this place as a home again.
There had been a moment when he thought he should go to his dad. That they should hold on to each other, cry out their pain, and try and make his father's words to his mother true; that they would be okay without her. He couldn't do it. His father's tears were too private, and Ian felt like an intruder in his own home.
He'd rushed out of the room, and quickly descended the stairs. His own tears made it clear to the family and friends that had kept watch in the living room that it was over now. Elaine was suffering no more. His godfather had reached for him, gripped his shoulder and tried to pull him in for a hug, but Ian had flinched and pulled away. His hand reached for the doorknob, and a moment later he was running down the street, as fast as he could, to get away from the house that could never be home to him again. He had no raincoat, no rain boots, and he didn't care if he would catch a cold or get dirty. All he wanted was to put as much distance as he could between him and his father's tears; from him and his mother's dead body.
It was just after sunset when Michael found him on the swings in the park. He'd wordlessly sat on the opposite swing, and spent the remaining hours with Ian despite the rain and the cold. He had no doubt been sent by his parents to bring Ian back home so Thomas and the others wouldn't worry. At fourteen years old, Michael knew that the best thing he could do for his best friend was to sit and wait for Ian to decide to go back.
They were drenched when they finally walked back to the Maxwell home. No one scolded or demanded an explanation for why it had taken them so long to get back. No one was mad about the mud they tracked into the house. They handed them towels and told them to go up and change. They tried to feed them. Neither boy was hungry.
Michael slept on the floor of Ian's room that night. It was nearly ten hours from the moment he'd found him in the park before Ian finally spoke his first words since his mother died.
"I hate the rain."
Anyone else wouldn't have understood what he meant, but Michael did. He'd reached up and squeezed his best friend's hand.
It was the last time they ever swung on those park swings.
"It's better that she is going quickly."
"If she lingered she would have suffered."
"If there is anything you and Ian need, Tom, don't hesitate to call."
Elaine had insisted on dying at home. She couldn't stand the smell of hospitals, and she wanted to be comfortable and surrounded by familiar faces and things. Ian wasn't sure if he was grateful or resentful. On one hand he didn't have to deal with a sterile hospital environment and watch his mother slowly fade away. On another, the house would never feel like home again now that he and his father had spent those months waiting and praying for a miracle that wouldn't come.
The rain had made Elaine smile despite the fact that her breathing had become hollow. She'd always liked the rain. When Ian was a little boy, she would bundle him up in a rain coat and rain boots and follow him out so they could splash in puddles together. His father hadn't approved. Not only did it make a mess, but it could have gotten them both sick. Ian had loved the rain as much as his mother did up until the day she died.
He'd hovered in the doorway during those final hours. His father sat at her bedside, holding her hand, promising her that it was okay for her to leave them. They'd be alright. They'd take care of each other. Ian had wished he was as brave as his father. As selfless as his dad so that he could tell her it was okay that she left them. He wanted to be able to lie and say they'd be okay without her. He wondered if she believed his father's lies.
Ian couldn't say the words, but to his credit he hadn't begged her not to go either. He'd whispered, "I love you," before kissing her cheek. Then he'd moved to the doorway, leaning against it, and waiting until hollow breaths slowed completely. When she'd taken that last breath there was a moment of silence before his father let out a sob that made Ian's stomach knot up. Only once before had he heard his father cry. He'd lost a patient that was just a child. He'd taken it too personally and couldn't leave his work at home. In the last few months his home, his bedroom, had been turned into a virtual hospital room.
Ian wondered how his dad would ever be able to see this place as a home again.
There had been a moment when he thought he should go to his dad. That they should hold on to each other, cry out their pain, and try and make his father's words to his mother true; that they would be okay without her. He couldn't do it. His father's tears were too private, and Ian felt like an intruder in his own home.
He'd rushed out of the room, and quickly descended the stairs. His own tears made it clear to the family and friends that had kept watch in the living room that it was over now. Elaine was suffering no more. His godfather had reached for him, gripped his shoulder and tried to pull him in for a hug, but Ian had flinched and pulled away. His hand reached for the doorknob, and a moment later he was running down the street, as fast as he could, to get away from the house that could never be home to him again. He had no raincoat, no rain boots, and he didn't care if he would catch a cold or get dirty. All he wanted was to put as much distance as he could between him and his father's tears; from him and his mother's dead body.
It was just after sunset when Michael found him on the swings in the park. He'd wordlessly sat on the opposite swing, and spent the remaining hours with Ian despite the rain and the cold. He had no doubt been sent by his parents to bring Ian back home so Thomas and the others wouldn't worry. At fourteen years old, Michael knew that the best thing he could do for his best friend was to sit and wait for Ian to decide to go back.
They were drenched when they finally walked back to the Maxwell home. No one scolded or demanded an explanation for why it had taken them so long to get back. No one was mad about the mud they tracked into the house. They handed them towels and told them to go up and change. They tried to feed them. Neither boy was hungry.
Michael slept on the floor of Ian's room that night. It was nearly ten hours from the moment he'd found him in the park before Ian finally spoke his first words since his mother died.
"I hate the rain."
Anyone else wouldn't have understood what he meant, but Michael did. He'd reached up and squeezed his best friend's hand.
It was the last time they ever swung on those park swings.
Oct. 23rd, 2008
![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif)
justprompts Write a letter to yourself as a child.
Dear Ian,
So, you're a kid and things are pretty great right now. Dad is busy, but he makes sure to be around for the important baseball games, and Sunday dinner with Mom and Grandma. He's the center of your world, and you're pretty convinced he can do no wrong. Mom is the prettiest girl you'll ever know. No one compares to her, and no food is ever going to taste better than what she puts on the table.
Enjoy it. Soak up every moment you have with them. Grandma ends up retiring to Florida before you start middle school. You'll miss her, but the family vacations to the beach almost make up for not seeing her every week. Mom's illness is not going to make sense to you. Even when you're my age, it will still seem sudden, and no amount of searching for answers is going to make it feel right to you. She shouldn't have died. The moment she did was the moment everything fell apart.
I'm not sure why I'm writing this. It's not like I'll send it even if it was possible to send things back in time. The fact is, you should hold on to your innocence for as long as you can. Dad should remain your hero for as long as he can. Cause the day he disappoints you? The day he shows he's not the hero you've made him out to be is going to be the day you don't believe in anything anymore.
Hang on tight when you're on his shoulders. It's a brutal fall to the ground. He's going to take you crashing down with him, and you're never going to forgive him.
-Your older self.
So, you're a kid and things are pretty great right now. Dad is busy, but he makes sure to be around for the important baseball games, and Sunday dinner with Mom and Grandma. He's the center of your world, and you're pretty convinced he can do no wrong. Mom is the prettiest girl you'll ever know. No one compares to her, and no food is ever going to taste better than what she puts on the table.
Enjoy it. Soak up every moment you have with them. Grandma ends up retiring to Florida before you start middle school. You'll miss her, but the family vacations to the beach almost make up for not seeing her every week. Mom's illness is not going to make sense to you. Even when you're my age, it will still seem sudden, and no amount of searching for answers is going to make it feel right to you. She shouldn't have died. The moment she did was the moment everything fell apart.
I'm not sure why I'm writing this. It's not like I'll send it even if it was possible to send things back in time. The fact is, you should hold on to your innocence for as long as you can. Dad should remain your hero for as long as he can. Cause the day he disappoints you? The day he shows he's not the hero you've made him out to be is going to be the day you don't believe in anything anymore.
Hang on tight when you're on his shoulders. It's a brutal fall to the ground. He's going to take you crashing down with him, and you're never going to forgive him.
-Your older self.
