Splendor in the Grass

The one that got away. Oh, I sigh and I sigh again! During the summer of my seventeenth year as a fledgling young thing, I experienced a love affair so torrid and fiery that like a wicked tango of the senses has left me in a lifelong whirlwind of longing and earning for the one who staked, conquered, and claimed me as his own. I now have reason to believe that it was because of this senseless (and terribly exciting) love affair that cultivated my particular fondness in the “soft hair for pillows – big round eyes for long lashes” department. It is also because of this relation with that handsome devil of a man (whose name remains a mystery for we never, ever exchanged our names) that I foresaw the opportunity to become the moi of today.
As I have briefly described before, my girlhood was fairly uneventful outside of the usual trysts involving me outsmarting my superiors. Always I knew my fortune was to be made elsewhere, and always I knew that there was something unusual about his brownish-blonde hair that lend him an almost supernatural vigor and pure artistry in his passion-making that no other love force dared challenge. The details of how we met are inconsequential. He was the traveler of many continents. A sojourner of nowhere. An adventurer with an intoxicating combination of monkey-like guile and James Bond debonair. A globetrotter who fed my innocent, gentle ears tales of things to be seen and the things he would do to me. Such terrible pleasures involving many transformations and genius, ah, I digress. He was a soldier of fortune from an exotic place called New Zealand, and I, being the clever fox that I was and still am, wanted my fortune.
He was the forbidden fruit in those days of scarce bai-kues. The few who were bold enough to venture into the Orient were mostly covered with extraneous bodily hair that they seemed barbaric and gorilla-like to my girls. Did I forget to mention? Surely, dear reader, I have made passing remarks of my moonlighting career as Lotus Blossom, the madam of the Flower Boat? Running such a prestigious, covert establishment like the Flower Boat was simply marvelous always with a peppering of danger. I speak of the Flower Boat now in such careless manner only because it has long since disappeared into the misty realms of secret desires of men’s hearts and risks no chances of ever being discovered.

Alas! I have digressed yet again!

Our love was forbidden. As Lotus Blossom, I could not love. I was not allowed to love. The tormented sleepless nights of utmost melancholy I have suffered because of my…limitation. If I had allowed myself that big, juicy, forbidden fruit, the Flower Boat would have sunken to a horrible, unglamorous death. For glamour, dear reader, I had to do what I had to do. I bid my New Soldier the Zealand zhai-jian! He would not leave, but I willed him to do as I bid. The departure brings stinging moisture to my eyes even now, and the thought of him still brings another moisture all together! Our last embrace of the horizontal sort was earth shattering, and as he dozed away and closed his big, round eyes, I clipped a lock of his slightly curly hair for remembrance.
At that moment, unbeknownst to me, I made my fate. Little did I know that this precious lock of hair had a secret so powerful and mesmerizing that it would soon bring me the fortune I so desired and my passport into the world, but that is
Until next time,
Ms. Wu