The thing about living with Harley Quinn is Harley Quinn made life better than I would have made it myself. What do I man by that? Right take the luxury coasters she bought.
I would have bought something “nice” that would “do” – Harley Quinn bought something exquisite, just a simple coaster but she was able to identify what I would consider the absolute perfect item. And she provided it, whenever she brought me a glass of wine or some “sniff”, it didn’t go on a coaster with a ring on it it went on a freshly polished coaster. Never mentioned – just happened.
Harley Quinn rarely looked anything other than immaculate, even in jeans and a T shirt – they would be Dolci & Gabana jeans and an Izzey Miyake or a Alistar McQueen T shirt. She only wore lip stick and eye liner nothing else and very little jewellery. She has amazing poise and grace to her movements. She would not grab something, she would place her fingers on it, pause a fraction of a second and then her thumb would engage it, pause for a fraction of a second and she would pick it up – a three step process of controlled movement. Never snatching, never rushing.
She had long legs and took long strides, even in 5” heals. So to use the example I’m running with. Id be working and stressed and Harley Quinn would, without asking, walk through the door looking in every detail the girl I have fantasized about meeting and being with since I was 14 years old. She walks in elegant long strides across the marble floor of the apartment, click, click, click, click, click, click and elegantly places a solid black tablet of glass polished to perfection, a perfect mirror image of her finger in its surface. Ddunk as its mass hits the desk top, she removes her finger in a graceful movement and leaves one perfect finger print on the glass block. She lowers a perfectly clean glass of ice cold white wine and pauses, looks up at me with head down and says softly “May I?” Of course I say. She lifts the glass to her lips and you can almost hear the ‘pu’ as her red lips part revealing glistening white teeth. They part further as they settle on the wine glass and she takes a small sip, no more, just a taste and she removes the glass. There is no lipstick on the glass, there is no trace of it ever having touched her lips, just the stripes of the wine as they flow down the edge of the glass. A tong would flick across her lips and she would gracefully place the glass on the coaster – all the while the glass was held with the stem, never the bowl, but her fingers would then pinch the bowl and just turn the glass to centralize it on the coaster.
This level of attention to detail, if most people did it it would drive you insane. But Harley Quinn did it with such exquisite elegance that watching it was like watching Japanese theater. It was spellbinding, and it was for you. It was to make that moment of your day as enjoyable as it was humanly possible for it to be. (We all know the real reason) But imagine living with the absolute manifestation of your dreams, who takes your life to a state of perfection that you yourself would simply never do – even if you had the money and the time. You know when you go to a really expensive hotel and your bowled over by the attention to detail and the luxury of everything and the standard of service. It was like having a partner that brought that into your daily life and made it 100% bespoke, just for you.
Harley Quinn would take note that I liked say Chorizo, but she would not just buy some at the supermarket. Harley Quinn would get her hot friend at the Italian Delicatessen to order in the very best Chorizo from Spain and she would ring the Domain Boyar brothers and ask which of their wines would go best with it and then she would unexpectedly arrive at my desk, completely out of the blue, with 4 exquisite open topped sandwiches with delicate rolls of Chorizo on top and a glass of the perfect wine.
Harley Quinn put as much attention into every day life that most people do into a first date with someone really special.
But she was not all elegance and sophistication. Harley Quinn is an amazing character actress in the style of Mr Bean. She has a range of characters – all very none PC – and she could and did go into these randomly without notice. You see she is in a school girls outfit on the book cover??? That was her “sexually predacious school girl with learning difficulties” outfit. You know the type of schoolgirl I’m on about – slightly autistic and obsessed with sex – and Harley Quinn would have me – and others – literally in floods of tears. And she didn’t just confine it to home – she could switch into this girl in a shopping mall, you could be stuck there hours whilst she terrorized the men. 2 people crashed cars – MY CARS – because she was in one of her characters in the passenger seat and they were laughing too much to concentrate.
She had a level of control over her body I have only seen in Rowen Atkinson and she could be just as funny dancing. You know the “Dance as if no one is watching” well Harley Quinn could dance as if she was in her bedroom having a huge laugh with her sister and being silly – whilst an entire night club would be stood watching her and the DJ calling her out.
Back to home life – when Harley Quinn kissed you it was never a peck on the lips – you know how gorgeous female movie stars kiss in close up on the big screen. That is how Harley Quinn kissed, as if waiting for the Director to shout “CUT”
Everything about Harley Quinn was taken to the pinnacle of perfection.
I remember going to see the Faberge Exhibition in London. It contained I think 9 of the Imperial Easter eggs and about 40 other imperial treasures all made by Karl Farerege for the Tsar and Tsarina. My one memory of the exhibition was “Everything I own is shit, NO everything I have ever seen is SHIT” I literally did not know that that level of perfection could exist – it was like having a ruler in centimeters and then suddenly finding that not only do millimeters exist but 1000 micrometers make up a millimeter and you had spent your life thinking a centimeter was the highest level of accuracy of luxury. Living with Harley Quinn was like the Faberge Exhibition – I never knew that level of attention to my desires, my likes could exist, I never knew a girl could be more perfect in real life than I even dared to imagine her in my fantasy’s, I never knew that a kiss could be so perfect or that a look could be so seductive.
The feeling Harley Quinn gave was perfect purity of perfection. I quite literally could not imagine a girl more totally perfect, my imagination was stretched just to take in the reality of her, her day to day existence was ALREADY beyond the limits of my imagination.
And she was MY girlfriend. This pure, distilled, graceful, artistic, intelligent, funny, multilingual, deeply loving visage sent by the Gods was my girlfriend. She took me in every way she possibly could the the heights beyond the top of mount Everest in sensual and hedonistic pleasure – to a land where my daily life was so far beyond. Beyond the beyond that is the outer limits of of human experience. A land that only movies even touch upon and no one gets to live. To the edge of the stratosphere where the air is so thin you have to wear a space suit but the view – the view is all humanity stretched out before you and you can see the curvature of the earth and the blackness of space. You know that above you, there isn’t even enough air to support your wings, there is no higher. This is it. Beyond this point there is no measurement of height, from here on it becomes – distance. As you glide in perfect tranquility at the edge of space, the sun so bright your visor is almost black, gasping at the beauty of life that you never thought possible.
EEEEEEEEERRRRRRKKKKKK EEEEEEEEERRRRRRKKKKKK EEEEEEEEERRRRRRKKKKKK
The cabin depressurizes as the wings are torn off.
BAIL OUT! BAIL OUT! BAIL OUT!
You don’t have time to even react and someone has pulled the ejector handle, your head smashes through the plexiglass canopy above you and suddenly your all alone, no one, nothing, spinning, rolling, tumbling, falling, falling, accelerating, accelerating, downwards, downwards, downwards, downwards…….
And you have 72,000 feet to go. You were on a ride in a U2 Spy Plane at the edge of space, no one, no living person was higher – and no living person has farther to fall.
Even at near supersonic fall velocity Its going to take a long time. There are only a few certainties left in your life now – gravity is dragging you down at 32ft per second per second and it will never stop. The ground 72,000 feet below is SOLID and unyielding. You won’t hit, you won’t splat, at T-00.00.00, when you contact, you will DETONATE!