My weekend with Charlize Theron
Charlize Theron phoned today to thank me for the email congratulating her on her Oscar for best actress. I didn’t think it was any big deal. Surely, she got a million emails from her fans. She said she did, and that she read every one, but mine was the only email that touched her so deeply. Made her heart flutter. Those were the words she used.
“You’re such a good writer,” Charlize said. “Your email was craftwork; your words like kisses on my skin. I have never received an email so powerful, so poetic, so hypnotic.” She said that after she read it, she walked around her house off balance, bumping into furniture, knocking over lamps. I told her that she needed to watch that, since the lightheadedness could be a sign of hypertension or that she got up too fast. That can make you a little dizzy.
“Don’t be a fool. Can’t you see I love you?”
“Is that right? Wow. I was hoping for an autographed picture, maybe. Love, you say? Damn. I gotta take another look at that email. It must be better than I remember.”
“It was magnificent,” Charlize said. Then she asked me if I would read it to her over the phone. She said she wanted to hear those words whispered from my voice to her ear. I told her that the computer was turned off. I’d have to boot it up and that might take a while. It’s only a Pentium II, so it’s slow and then there’s the virus scanner.
“I don’t care. I’ve waited this long for someone to communicate with my very soul, I can wait a few minutes longer.”
“Well, okay, then.” So, I went upstairs and turned on the computer and wouldn’t you know it, the darn thing locked up. There’s some kind of incompatibility between the scanner and the printer and it’s been happening a lot lately. Anyway, I got it all sorted out and I read Charlize the email. She asked me to read it again and again. She particularly liked the part where I compared her lips with the meanders of the Mississippi river: “nicely curving and moist but without all that brown mud.”
Charlize started moaning softly on the other end of the line.
“You okay? You still feeling dizzy?” I asked. “You might want to sit down.”
“I want you,” she said.
“I’m sorry. You want me to do what? I didn’t catch the last part. You must be on your cell phone. I make all my long distance calls on the cell phone, too. Saves I lot of money, I find.”
“I want you,” Charlize said again. “I want you to come out here to Los Angeles. This Saturday. I want you to make love to me all night long.”
“Well, I’d probably have to come out, say, Friday night. Get a good night sleep, you know with the jet lag and the time change and all that. Make love all night you say?”
“Let’s do it. Let’s not even wait. Come now. Catch the next plane out.”
“The other thing, Charlize, is that I’m married. Did I mention that in my email? You know, I don’t think I did.” She seemed crestfallen. And then she said, “I’m just crestfallen.” I thought about pointing out that interesting coincidence to her, but ended up keeping it to myself.
Charlize was crying. She pleaded with me. “Just one night. Surely your wife will understand. She is such a lucky woman to have a man like you. Couldn’t you just ask her?”
So I did. My wife was downstairs folding laundry. I yelled down to her. “It’s Charize Theron on the phone. She wants me to come to LA and make love to her. Can you believe it?” “When?” “This Saturday.” “That won’t work. We have dinner with the neighbors. How about the following Saturday?” Charlize was disappointed but said she would wait until next Saturday if she absolutely had to. “Next Saturday will work for her. Sure it’s okay with you?” “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll probably go see my mother. You go. Have a good screw with Charlize. Oh, by the way, tell her I loved her work in Monster.”
With that behind us, Charlize and I worked out the remaining details. She said she would make reservations at a romantic hotel she knows in Malibu. It’s right on the beach. Very private. She said she’d pick up the tab, including room service. She offered to pay for my airline tickets, too, but I drew the line. I told her I would pay for my own tickets.
“I will be a caged animal waiting for you,” Charize told me. I promised to write her another romantic email and that I would attach my itinerary at the end so she’d have that. We said goodnight and hung up.
I got on expedia.com right away. The best airfare I could find to L.A. was $2500 because the departure date was less than 14 days away. I tried Orbitz. The fare was even higher. I couldn’t come up with that kind of money. Then I remembered my frequent flier miles. That’s it! I’ll cash in a free ticket. But when I looked, I couldn’t find the paperwork. I searched and I searched through all the unfiled papers in my office. It felt as though I was standing on a mountaintop. Then I lost my balance and fell through the open air for what seemed like thousands of feet. Just before I hit the ground, I woke up with a start, sat up in bed and screamed.
“It was just a dream,” my wife said. “Go back to sleep.” Disoriented, I stumbled into the bathroom, had a long pee. On the way back to bed, I stubbed my toe on the laundry basket. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I thought of Charlize and our planned rendezvous for next Saturday night. I tried my damnedest to get back to her in my dreams, to no avail.
We’ll need to reschedule.
10:41:54 PM  Stories
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