UNCONDITIONAL LOVE IN SOUTH BEACH
BY
DAVID ARTHUR WALTERS
July 21, 2013
MIAMI BEACH
Unconditional Love is the way to go in South Beach.
Of course there are all sorts of love, but I am referring to sexual love and so-called Platonic or friendly love. They may occur together between lovers but we know which one has priority, at least until lovers are ready to drop dead.
“Can’t we just be friends?” in these parts would be greeted with, “What planet are you from?”
Being loved in return for love is a condition nearly impossible to obtain in this sunny resort. But one can be quite happy with unrequited love. After all, whom do we really love when we are “in love” but with the very source of charity or caritas, our own dear self? If we really want to be charitable, there should be no strings attached. Let us not prostitute our dear selves!
People often complain that South Beach friends are fair weather friends, or just fickle friends who abandon them without reason. What is not to like about that? An Unconditional Lover will no doubt be pleased that he is not displeased by their abandonment, thus proving that his love is genuine, at least for his dear self. If he is hurt, he should ask, “Why do I want to feel hurt by this? After all, I am the best of all lovers, an Unconditional Lover!”
The more generously we love, the better off we are. Of course we may be hated by needy people who resent our generosity because they believe it degrades them, but unconditional love does not require appreciation at all. Indeed, anything short of physical abuse would serve to reinforce the stature of an Unconditional Lover.
Best of all, we do not need property to be generous with affection, advice, encouragement, and active assistance with troublesome situations.
Last evening I attended a fashion event sponsored by What Women Want at the Nikki Beach Club. I intended to see what women really wanted and to possibly write a review about it. I got my complimentary glass of champagne and considered a sign advertising a bottle of Russian Standard Brand Vodka for $300.
I recalled that the robust vodka brand was being concealed in fancy mixed drinks at the main Mercedes Benz swimwear event, over at the Raleigh Hotel. I had encountered a small crew of professional freeloaders there the night before. I joined them for a while. They thought I was a fool for tipping the pretty bartenders. They scooted off to the W Hotel for free food. I went home and awoke with a hangover, but there was no love lost over the headache. I had already received an invitation to the Nikki Beach Club, so there I went.
I examined the bikinis at the Nikki with a critical eye. I concluded there was not much to them, really, for the difference between brands, with two stringy exceptions, was rather slight. Of course any woman who knows about such scanty little things would beg to differ, and I love them even though they might call me an idiot or worse.
The slender young models were beautiful, but there was not much formal difference between their bodies that I could tell, as if they were stamped from different shades of dough with the same cookie cutter, and the fact that there were so many of them in one place prevented me from being interested in most of them. In fact, recall only one of them, and that because she kept reaching behind her and fingering the strap in the crevice of her perfectly shaped buttocks, as if the strap were irritating her. That does not diminish my secret unconditional love for the only lovely model I remember. After all, grace is in innocence.
It is said that beauty is skin deep or superficial, and that what really counts is the inside of a person, but I am not attracted to flesh and bone, to the kidneys, liver, heart, lungs and so on exposed in operating rooms. Overall, the bikini experience did remind me that physical beauty is the lowest type of beauty, yet that is based on the highest beauty inside, derived from the One we would unite with and in whose image we are purportedly created. In the interim we are advised to love ourselves in each other. Mirror, mirror, on the wall….
There was an all-purpose, black-and-white checkered swim scarf on sale on the Montce Swim table for $55. Drape it over your head and face to avoid being whipped by the Taliban or to rob a bank. Wrap it around your neck or bust or waist or whatever and look cool. I thought the scarf was hot, as Paris Hilton liked to say when she was the hot thing around town, so I considered getting one for Aliz until I remembered my scanty budget and threadbare wardrobe and the fact that she already has dozens of more expensive scarves in storage.
My eye was attracted by a table of expensive, conservative jewelry from Paris on the Violet & Grace table. The lovely ladies attending it were apparently deceived by my only expensive shirt. They wanted me to buy some jewelry on the spot, or come over to the Shore Club on the morrow to make a purchase. After a publisher falls in love with my work, I shall indeed buy lots of that kind of jewelry for women whom I shall love so unconditionally that I do not have to lay a hand on them. On the other hand, maybe they want something flashy, so I had better do some research beforehand.
I noticed a few sushi snacks set out in front of a rotisserie display of a dozen chickens. I asked the cook standing there if the sushi rolls had chicken in them. As the reader may know, eating chicken is enjoined by Our Lady of the Little Red Rooster Church. He dished out a grumpy “no” dressed with a sullen glance, and was otherwise extremely taciturn, but since I had unconditional love, I tried one of the snacks anyway. It was deliciously substantial, filled I think with crabmeat.
I love the Nikki South Beach Club persona unconditionally even though it is priced way over my monetary means. I certainly enjoyed myself there last evening without spending a red cent. I discussed Houdini with its pleasant representative attending the auction table. She was not giving any candy or beer away, but of course I did not mind. I generously explained the connection I had made between Houdini and Jack Penrod’s beloved deceased daughter, Nikki, in whose spiritual image he created his clubs, and I promised to send her my article about the hitherto untold secrets of Houdini’s success before he invited a man to punch him in the solar plexus and was thus killed because he relaxed at the wrong moment.
I went into a quiet place to call Aliz. She is quite generous in her own way, but like everyone else I know around here, she is quite interested in herself, sometimes inordinately so, therefore she related at some length her experiences of the day. When she was finished, I asked her if she wanted to hear about mine. “Not really,” she said, “Goodbye.”
Honesty is the best policy, is it not? Why bother with poppycock? I hung up without feeling offended. That is one of the many advantages of unconditional love. As for What Women Want, and perhaps men as well, I think they want to be loved unconditionally. But there are other considerations.
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