Vital Lovemaking, by Mika Seifert

Fiction

robvollmar@ou.edu
Thu, 02/13/2025 – 14:50

Picture by Jamez Picard / Unsplash

Whether or not you have fun or lament Valentine’s Day, right here’s a brand new story of affection’s demise.

The Critic had a brand new girlfriend. He had met her at a Barnes and Noble, the one on Union Sq., the place that they had each reached for the final copy of Proust’s Remembrance of Issues Previous. Their fingers had met, after which their eyes. There had been a shuffling of toes, an change of fluttering phrases. Unknowable issues had aligned themselves, with the consequence that the Critic was now very a lot in love. 

That very same day the Critic, in his weekly column, known as Leif Samuelson’s newest novel “a triumph, the work of a visionary, nothing in need of gorgeous.” 

This new love in his life had already produced within the Critic the sorts of modifications he routinely noticed in others, and which he had lived in mortal concern of, to wit: a bent to satisfy obstacles with a certain quantity of cockeyed optimism, a rising appreciation of the sky and nature on the whole, and the alarming behavior of window buying. 

“Stefano de Leon’s film is highly effective and uplifting,” the Critic wrote. “It succeeds in breathtaking style.”

The Critic was significantly keen on the girlfriend’s nostril, particularly when he checked out it in profile. He was taken, additionally, by her hair, which he thought ranked among the many finest heads of hair he had but seen. Lastly, he liked the grace and dignity with which she imbued all the pieces she did, all the pieces she stated. This struck the Critic as a outstanding trait. “The girlfriend,” the Critic wrote, “is compassionate and splendidly human.” 

The Critic was significantly keen on the girlfriend’s nostril, particularly when he checked out it in profile.

The extremely acclaimed girlfriend, for her half, liked the way in which the Critic had relinquished his maintain on the Proust. 

*

They had been, by all appearances, inseparable in these first days. The Critic took the girlfriend to see motion pictures. He took her to his favourite jazz membership, they dined at his favourite restaurant. They rediscovered the town foot by foot. They discovered one thing new in rain, in music, in the way in which sneakers sounded on the sidewalks, and so forth. 

They discovered one thing new in rain, in music, in the way in which sneakers sounded on the sidewalks, and so forth. 

All week, the Critic discovered himself assailed by unusual concepts wherever he went. Sentences leaped out at him absolutely shaped, corresponding to for example this one, which the Critic recorded after every week of courting the girlfriend: “New York’s summers are the apotheosis of all summers all over the place, simply as her winters are the apotheosis of each winter that ever was, anyplace.” 

*

On a really fantastic day (a day made for window buying), the Critic and the girlfriend had been taking a stroll by Central Park. 

“Oh, isn’t it stunning?” cried the girlfriend. 

“The sky is flawless,” the Critic answered. “Thus far, it’s the brightest, the boldest sky we’ve seen all 12 months. It’s a main accomplishment.” 

*

The connection was consummated not lengthy after with nice success. The Critic wrote: “Nothing was lacking on this opening evening. All in all, a really ready, heartfelt efficiency by the Critic.” 

After giving it some thought, the Critic enthusiastically added: “New York is love.” 

*

Issues progressed properly for a while, with the notable exception of the second evening, wherein the Critic felt unable to stay as much as expectations. He chalked it off to sophomore stoop. 

On the third evening, and on each evening thereafter for a month, the Critic was again on monitor. He wrote: “The Critic dazzles . . . a few of his most interesting work . . .”

“Pleasant . . . one other traditional efficiency by the Critic . . .”

“The variability and richness of the Critic’s repertoire has not the palest rival . . . an actual magician . . .”

“The Critic . . . is working on the peak of his powers . . .” “Ingenious . . . the Critic delivers his masterpiece . . .”

*

It was the happiest the Critic had ever been. He needed to spend each waking second with the girlfriend. They had been incessantly seen in any respect the key social occasions of the town. There have been some public shows of affection. They walked hand in hand. 

The change, when it got here, was imperceptible at first. A stone had, unnoticed by all, entered the chic equipment and introduced it out of step. 

The Critic seen how he liked even the little imperfections within the girlfriend. Her legs (simply barely too quick) had been, he thought, not with out allure however finally just a little disappointing. Equally, her shoulders (too manly; ought to the girlfriend maybe in the reduction of on her swimming?) weren’t going to make anybody’s year-end lists. Her ears (an excessive amount of lobe) confirmed promise however ultimately fell flat. 

The Critic prided himself on the truth that he was capable of make mild of those inconsistencies. 

*

Though the Critic continued to like the girlfriend to usually favorable opinions, it was now not the identical. The Herald Tribune, on August 2, wrote that “the Critic, contemplating the adversarial circumstances, carried out admirably however lacked a cohesive technique.” The Chicago Solar-Instances commented on the Critic’s August 5 efficiency: “The Critic’s presentation was inconsistent. Occasional flashes of brilliance had been offset by lackluster episodes. Not his shining hour.” The Document, out of Hackensack, New Jersey, printed an article on August 9, claiming that “the Critic’s efficiency was competent. Nonetheless, he appeared at instances to be forgoing innovation in favor of a rehashing of previous favorites.” On August 10, the Wall Road Journal wrote: “The Critic is out of concepts.” 

*

On August 15, the Critic as soon as extra entered a Barnes and Noble in the hunt for Proust. He now alternated between the one in Greenwich Village and the one on Fifth Avenue, the place he hoped he would by no means see the girlfriend. He by no means went window buying anymore. He fully ignored the sky. A number of days later, he felt compelled to jot down the next: “The New York summer season is a dreary, bloated factor.” 

Hilchenbach, Germany