Had she not walked in today, the matter would have probably been deferred by who knows how many more weeks. The thing is, I’m so entangled with “the matter” that I was terrified to kick it off with the wrong foot. Thankfully, Denise DID come in the Caffé and, as she sat by the counter, I exhaled a warm sigh of relief. Even more so because neither Lupus nor Sidro speak a word of English, thus sparing us from embarassing, trivial comments and innuendo-filled giggles.
So I lay back on my chair and take a sip of coffee as she starts to speak…
THE ATTACHMENT HORMONE
By Denise Power
I’m not sure if it was because of my PFG that we launched into the conversation about the attachment hormone, but it’s likely.
My cheeks were aflame with post-coital radiance or Post Fuck Glow as it is known in certain circles. I had taken to smiling, in a dreamy fashion, with a faraway look in my eyes only half concentrating on the conversation around me.
“You know there’s a good reason why you shouldn’t put out.”
Someone was scolding me. I exited my reverie, glancing in their direction.
“Just me? Or everyone?”
“Why’s that?” I felt indignant. It’s one thing to be slutty, another to be reproached for it by a peer.
“Your levels of oxytocin are too high.”
“Meaning : you get too attached. Oxytocin is the attachment hormone. Now all we’re going to hear is how heart broken you are in a couple of days because such and such never rang. Two days ago, that wouldn’t have mattered. You just get all attached on the basis of nothing, just your silly daydreams and weird concoction of hormones that you got. You never just enjoy these things for the sake of it.”
At this stage, I could get defensive and rebuff this claim stating that FYI but like normal people after normal sexual encounters, I too was aloof and unattached. This would involve words like Ridiculous and Hardly and sentences starting with “It was just…” and would be followed by a general downplay of the whole procedure and then an anecdote about how it meant nothing would be thrown in for good measure.
In a similar vein I could retort that if my condition was hormonal then surely I couldn’t control it, it controlled me, as is the nature of hormones, so I was immune from blame.
Or I could be mysterious and smug and speak of destiny and the start of something beautiful and how you never know with these things and be verbose about ’ What’s Furry One Goodbye’.
I lost you there, right?
What’s furry one goodbye is a guiding premise. It’s a malapropism of an entire sentence pertaining to The One. Everybody knows what The One is but for those that don’t; it’s your kindred spirit. I’ll get back to The One and its relationship with the attachment hormone in a minute, first I need to explain Furry.
My cousin is from Lixnaw in Kerry and has a strong Kerry accent. Kerry accents are notoriously difficult to understand because they are pitched much higher than normal speech (ie Received Pronunciation) and delivered in a frenetic haze of speed and excitement. I was bemoaning some recent broken heart to her and having evaluated the situation, she decided to impart some heartfelt advice to me on how to react.
“What’s furry one goodbye.”