"Rise and Fall" - Flash Creative Nonfiction Experiments

I've been experimenting with creative nonfiction lately between juggling comic book projects, my internship, and plugging away at the novel I'm working on (Chapter 13 currently). This is a little piece I wrote about this summer. I't kind of prose poetry, but most flash creative nonfiction tends to read that way.

I still want to work on this, but this is the current draft.

Enjoy!

Rise and Fall

Written by: Kenny Porter

From LifeHacker.com

Her chest rises and falls with each sleeping breath. Navy blue sheets bundle at our feet. Fan blades hiss in the window between wood molding and white walls. Recirculated air cuts over her body and drapes over mine. Monitor light bathes the room in a deep, rich yellow.

My hand slides up her back. I rub her shoulder, letting her know I’m awake. She stirs, but still sleeps. My hand glides down her arm, her side, and her leg. Her hair lifts from a burst of air. Goosebumps rise on her skin and her feet slide up and down the mattress.

Summer crickets lull me to sleep. My body sweaty from her embrace. My heart still booms in my chest, but my mind races faster -- walks we’ve shared, meals we’ve eaten, and the travels we’ll embark on together.

She rolls on her side, hands under her head. I slide my arm under her pillow, fitted against her back. The heat is unbearable. Two bodies wrapped in navy on a ninety degree night.

I can’t let go. My heart beats against her back, rhythmic, like an old locomotive. Louder in my ear than the chirps from crickets.

My hand runs up her leg, back to her face. She moans and nuzzles backward toward me. My hot breath wraps around her neck. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes.

I drift to sleep. Slowly, then like a hurricane.

Our first date is the stage, we the players. A coffee shop in a blistering Michigan winter. The date flashes like the bulbs of ancient cameras. Hot coffee, wood stove pizza, and a musical backdrop for the drinks on my couch. We probe with jokes and anecdotes. The conversation crests and drops between the two of us.

She sits at the other end of the couch, legs curled up, and I mimic her on my end. We talk, laugh, and the moment comes when we lock eyes. Everything rises in our chests. I want to kiss her. She’s too far away. I feel the moment drop away. A perfect moment built like a metaphysical bridge. Now it’s a cinder block, dropped off the side and falling toward a cold river.

I ask if I can kiss her.

She laughs and says, “yes.”

I shudder awake. My sweat is frozen from the fan. I grasp for blankets at my feet. I’ve shifted to the other side. The dark side of the mattress. Romantic heat from my body has run dry to fuel my dreams. I wrap myself and press against her back again.

She’s warm. I wrap my arms around her, rest them below her chest. Cold night air has settled. I hold her tightly. I time my breaths with hers. My heart booms out of sync, but our lungs rise and fall together.

The Three Dates Rule - Humorous Essay

This is a humorous essay I recently wrote in my Writing with Style class. I thought I would go ahead and share it with all of you.

The Three Dates Rule

Anyone who tries to tell you that dating has concrete rules is a liar. That or they've never been on an actual date in their adult life. When you try to put rules on something as complicated as romance you end up with creepy contractual obligations. One of the biggest myths is that after three dates you’re going to have sex with the other person. No contest, it’s set in stone. This rule has been perpetuated in pop culture for decades and has been floating around since the days of Seinfeld. I don’t like to be told how much time I have to spend with someone before I can sleep with them, or that I have to sleep with them on the third rendezvous. It puts a whole level of pressure on the situation that no one is talking about but everyone is thinking. Because, let’s be honest, sex is always on your mind when you’re attracted to someone new.

            I sometimes wonder if this rule stemmed out of the popular baseball metaphor. The whole first base, second base, and third base representations of how far you made it with the person you went out with the night before. The general consensus is that first base is making out, second base is a feel of the breasts, and third base (and I kid you not with the number of times I've seen this typed online) is “manipulation of the vagina.” Those are four words I never want associated with me in the history of my dating career. It sounds like the opening statement for a very unpleasant prosecution case in a court of law. Another thing that doesn't play fair in this scenario is that it’s only counting achievements for men on the female body. Where’s the equivalent for women? I would love to see an exchange where a couple of ladies finally get their due.

            “I made it to second base last night,” says the first woman.

            “You cupped his balls? Were you checking him for cancer?” asks the second. They then smile and share a high five. Because hey, she deserves it just as much as any guy would in that scenario.

This brings me back to the whole rule about three dates and then a mutual agreement to jump in the sack. Do women think this about guys too? I know it’s a common thought that the woman has to sleep with you on the third date, which is the creepiest form of punch-card romance I've ever heard, but do women have the same standards? Women could very well be thinking that they just have to take a guy to dinner three times before he’ll finally put out. I’d like to think not, but the stereotype for the time frame might have already driven it into their heads. It’s definitely infected the minds of enough men willing to jump at the chance of guaranteed sex.

I’m not saying that people should wait longer, or abstain, or take the advice of any after school special where a cartoon mascot tells them how to control their body. If Bugs Bunny tried to tell you when it was appropriate for you to sleep with someone else would you take it seriously? It’s already hard to hear abstinence advice from animation, but then to hear it from a rabbit that bases half his jokes on dressing up in drag and seducing other men is downright ridiculous. He clearly has his own issues he needs to work out, and maybe a commitment to a lifestyle change, before he dispenses abstinence advice to anyone. What it really boils down to is for the feeling to be right. If you put a time stamp on everything in a relationship then you’re just going through the motions until you reach the next step.

Let’s pretend that people do go through a time-plotted relationship. On the first date you kiss. On the second date you do a little more feeling around. On the third date you actually have sex. On the fifteenth date you jokingly throw out the idea of one of you wearing a costume to bed, which may or may not be greeted with hostility. On the fortieth date you notice your significant other talking about how attractive your best friend is just a little too much. On the one-hundredth date you have to get married, no exceptions. And if you don’t make it to five hundred dates by the end of your fifth year of marriage then you have to get divorced. See how stupid that is? Although it might work out for the best if you do get divorced because they were clearly harboring feelings for your best friend anyway. Still, it’s stupid to put a numeric value on it.

The bottom line should be that dating and sex should have no rules. As long as consenting adults are both interested, enjoy each other’s company, and don’t find the other one too repulsive, everything should be fair game. One, two, three, or a hundred dates later, there’s should be no time commitment for reaching any base or home plate. And if there is a book with these rules, do you trust the person who wrote it? No one who makes rules in their favor to get laid is someone worth listening to, although they might just have an obsessive compulsion disorder focused on baseball.