When I very first started dating Wolverine all those years ago, his romantic and creative nature were already evident prior to falling in looooouuuuurrrrrvvvvveeee. In our writing workshop, he frequently wrote poems about clown feet, dead flies in the milk, and stomping through graveyards. Tres romantique. And he got really wistful when talking about Allen Ginsberg, Charles Baudelaire, Marcel Duchamp, or that little minx, Antonin Artaud. ESPECIALLY ARTAUD. Confession: In 1999, when I met Wolverine, I had no idea WHO Artaud was, and I might not even know now. Does anyone ever know such a mysterious figure? I think not.
It wasn’t Wolverine’s poems about over-large clown feet slapping the pavement, or his ability to recite verbatim Les Fleurs du Mal, his love of Gothic, and romantic-era literature, his beat-poet semantic, or his reverence for the silent-film Nosferatu, that got me interested in him, it was that after our first date (in which we saw that 90’s classic, Mystery Men) we went back to his place and he played Nina Simone for me. Singularly, his adorable smile, coupled with his enthusiasm for Nina Simone was what did me in. We did not discuss beforehand our mutual love of Nina’s music, he was just SO excited to play her music for me. His enthusiasm rivaled that of someone who might have discovered the cure for cancer, say, or won the Nobel Peace Prize.What Wolverine didn’t know was that when I played Nina Simone for my Previous Idiot Boyfriend (PIB). PIB complained in a bored voice that she “sounds like a man. Heh.” And stretched out on my futon like he was going to live there forever. Which of course, led me to abandon him on the side of the road.
Wolverine scored some major points (in more ways than one) that night– for his verve and his genuine sweetness, and he managed to NOT insult the High Priestess of Soul while charming my (um, er) socks off. 10 years later, and I hope he knows, that he still puts a spell on me.
Aw (try not to barf)!!!