They have a lot of open games and table-top ready demos to try out. The manager and will happily explain the instructions of each game or even play with you.
F-it, there should be a review section just for FunAgain's manager alone. The guy is walking sex. I can't get enough of him. He's like an irrepressible urge that keeps you titillating time and time again. His skin is soft like a baby's bottom. His taste in men's semi-casual attire is exquisite-he's like a compilation of all the best elements from the late 60's/early 70's...sans the Beatnick poetry and sweater vests.You'd never guess he's on the cusp of 50- his mind is so sharp, so accurate. And he speaks fluent Japanese.
I never liked games or anything remotely intelligent until I happened to walk in one afternoon after I got lost in the rain. He was there, behind the counter listening to a schism of sounds he alone has the good taste to call "music."
He didn't notice me at first, which amazed me because normally all guys always street-calli me. In fact the reason I was lost that day was because I'd been harassed by the catcalls and got flustered and ducked into the wrong alley. But he wasn't like all those stupid young guys. He was so mature. Instead of looking at my decolletage like most men do he looked me straight in the eyes like a f-ing human. His eyes were a light baby blue, such a clear and innocent gaze!
He asked me if I was "OK" but it was all my womanly little heart could do not to burst into tears. I could feel the stares of all the other guys in the room looking at me, eating me with their eyes.
The manager pulled me aside and cleared the bar for me. " Shh-shh," he said in his masculine but soothing tones. His voice is like a low music caressing my ears. "I'm just about to have some tea, would you like some?"
Never in my life had I been offered tea. I blinked. His presence made me feel so light and young.
His gentle hands that held mine began preparing the tea. They were like falling leaves on a brooke- light but swept away by the undercurrent of his veins and muscles. I just sat there, mesmerized, all the cares of the world gone away. He began talking about the most recent book he'd read -something about women's rights. He deftly moved on to other topics like the three-player strategy behind German games, the nuances of Japanese film and the latest Criterion Collection he'd happened to watch the night before.
At some point the words coming out of his beautiful mouth just became a stream of lullabys. I began to see us, together, our fleshed rolled into a giant ball of One-ness. Our hands, clawing at each other like ravenous beasts, sweat pouring over sweat, my legs, his hands. My head, his waist. The harsh light of the store drifted away and I knew -I just knew with that instinct only a woman has- that this man was an excellent lover.
I knew he would never bore me- not like all those young jocks on the UoO track team. Here was a man of virtue, a true lover of the soul. My heart yearned for him. My body needed him. I did not know what beauty was until I met him. I knew we could be together forever. Me and him- this wonderful, charming gentleman I'd met in the rain. I'd never outlive him, I'd never grow bored...but would he?
I sat there and the scary, unfathomable truth dawned on me. I might be young and beautiful. I might have be 36/24/36 at 5'5" and 125lbs but youth is only so deep. Here was man who could speak in Japanese haiku, who understood the German transcontinental railway system, who listened to the music of machines. I knew then the inevitable - he would grow tired of ME. His innocence, so fresh and understated, would never be sated by the shallow, vapid beauty that I was. He would drink me in and find that underneath my gorgeous exterior I had nothing to recommend myself to his world.
It pained me, it hurt like knives going up and down my spine. Tearing myself away from the electricity of his body nearly tore a chasm in my soul. But it was for the best. I cast one fleeting look at the manager from Funagain. I whispered "good-bye" with my full cherry lips and slipped out into the night.
I did look back once. I will never forget him.
Even now, from the distant height of my New York flat I can remember the scent of his aftershave, the curly red hairs on his chest, the way he could out maneuver all the trains on German Railways. Ah, to be in Eugene again. Ah to be young at FunAgain with the man I adore... read more
