July 9, 2001

• THE STORY OF IO
  

  Once, I had a boyfriend named James. With beautiful emerald-colored eyes and a sly smile, I was instantly attracted to him. He was clever and extraordinarily funny, at least in my opinion. Collecting recipes was his hobby, and he was nearly obsessive about it. I found this charming, as he was indeed a good cook. He preferred Cajun dishes; he and his roommate, Hitch, were from New Orleans. James had also lived in Detroit, and I was from Detroit, and here we were, connecting in Houston, Texas. That created a kind of bond, as well.
  

  James used the name "James IO" for nearly everything, and never told anyone what it meant. We all guessed "in/out" as some kind of childish sexual thing, but he swore that wasn't it. Well, hell, he was entitled to a secret or two.
  

  He sometimes accused me of using him as a "good-looking boy toy" on whose arm to appear at public functions. "A simple prop to occupy your time," he called himself, quoting a popular song lyric. I denied this vehemently. I certainly did not want to be a person that would use someone in this fashion. I wanted him to believe I adored him for who he was, but I wasn’t even sure myself if that was true. I did enjoy his company, and the sex was fabulous. A creative lover is a wonderful thing.
  

  SIDEBAR: I’m one of those rare women that enjoys sex more than most men. I have never, ever found a man that, for any longer than a few months, could keep up with my sexual appetite. It’s a curse, I promise. END SIDEBAR

  Not all my friends were enamored of James, though. I remember Hitch and another friend, Paul, once sitting on my couch while I was in the bedroom with James. "Here we are, nice, decent, honest guys, and James is a jerk," they said. "But James is in the bedroom, and where do nice guys end up? ON THE COUCH!"
  

  Paul especially thought James was less-than-bright. One Sunday, they handed him the comics from the Sunday paper and said "Here’s the comics, James… we’ll read them to you later." Hmph.
  

  Paul also remembers the time we had to explain to James that Paul McCartney was once in a band before Wings... well, anyway.
  

  We really had fun times together, though, James and I. There's something to be learned from everyone, and I really believed that James had the potential to be wonderful. So we stayed together for some time, enjoying life, making wonderful, addictive love, and having a generally good time.
  

  Then one day, James and I were at his apartment, and the unthinkable happened. He dropped to one knee, and said…
  

  "Will you marry me?"
  

  To be continued…

  • 1:31 pm
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