Her

Friday, May 30, 2008

There is a pretty young lady who caught my eye about a few months ago. Things are progressively going slower than I thought. I always thought I could “get” anyone I wanted but alas, clearly I am not able to this time - or ever.

I always write about the people I have crushes on and to some extent, it keeps my blog alive. This time though, I don’t think I can possibly speak about the women in my life. For the first time, I am concentrated on one person…nothing seem to be alive around me, the clocks stop ticking, the seasons remain the same, life itself blossoms as my heartbeat remains at its slowest pace. I have been on this ride for quite a while now and I just can’t push to the stop button just yet, even when I know it can’t possibly go anywhere. I have this one desire and it is to stay on that rollercoaster in the loops, feeling that warm breeze as I am frozen with fear because I will never be able to continue the ride. And so, I stay glued to my seat awaiting a moment that will bring constant warmth to my heart.

I am not someone who pressures and pushes people into making a life altering decision. I don’t bother asking to bask in their world. She, like every girl I grow fond of happen to admire the opposite sex which leaves me with a big “no-no, she is straight” thought. I keep telling myself that there will never be anything good coming out of it. One of us will have a blistering heart. I know it. Its all been said once before. I don’t want to repeat history - especially when it involves me scrapping off my broken heart from the cold concrete of reality. I can’t seem to learn. Repetition is my forte. I keep putting myself in these uncertain situations and I can’t escape them.

There, you have it….lost and delirious.

Posted in: , | 0 comments | |  

The day I learned

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

It was a Saturday. I ran some errands in the morning, which lasted up until late afternoon. A bit of rain showers that evening was enough to send me under my warm Egyptian cotton comforter with the company of crappy reality TV. For the first time in a very long time, I did not want to be at a bar chatting with strangers and drinking 8 dollar city beers.

Late in the evening, I received a text from an ex. She was out drinking and wanted to come over to misbehave. I decided some company would suit me just fine. An hour passed and my doorbell rang. I answered in my usual shorts and tank combo with a beer in each hand – one for her and I. She wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a typical hello kiss.

We curled up on the couch, and she started talking about the young lass she was recently dating and presently in the midst of a wicked break up. I looked at her baffled and said it was inappropriate to talk about a soon to be ex, while she was cuddled under a blanket with me. I began to question her coming here and as the questions seemed to emerge like 50 cents toy candy dispensers, I moved my body away from her, until I was tucked in right next to the arm of the couch, as far from her as I could be on this piece of furniture.

Then it went on about why we broke up in the first place and questioning what we were doing and why we were so obsessed with one another, which seem to always lead to awkward, and yet incredible lust. But we broke up a long time ago however we still had an eccentric and intimate connection.

She leaned toward me and pulled me out of a tight ball of legs and couch pillows.

“I should despise you.” I objected, as my body unfolded under hers.

“I know you should”, she said, pressing her chest on top of mine and burying her soft lips on my neck. My mind was racing, debating if I should push her off and scream and keep going with the fight we had or just relax, stop harboring feelings from years ago and go along with the physical relationship we’d started anew. She knew I was cranky and bringing up the woman she dumped me for wasn’t the best move. I was now literally putty in her hands, short of breath and soothed.


And then it happened.

We were in bed and I was underneath her. Asking for her to hold me. She slid her hands underneath my back and cupped her hands around my shoulders. I could feel my face flush in the beginnings of tears fill my eyes, which I tried really hard to keep them in. But as the tears piled up and I could no longer keep them in, I reached up with my hands to wipe my face and shield my eyes from her.

She paused. “Are you crying?” she asked.

That was all it took and my tears broke through the invisible barrier and ran down my cheeks.

“I’m fine.” I said.

“Why are you crying?” she asked, calmly. “Am I doing something wrong?”

I continued to repeat over and over that I was fine and that I didn’t know why I was crying. She said that I obviously wasn’t. I begged her to just ignore it, to keep going, to be with me. She listened at first, But when I didn’t she protested that she was hurting me and she just couldn’t hurt me anymore.

“I am not crying because I don’t want to be with you.” I said.

“You are crying because you do.” She said, her voice soft and fading. Almost seemed like an echo in the room – a constant reminder of the truth.

She whispered softly, “I am sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

I have never felt so raw and weak and useless and desperate and alone. I wasn’t just crying for her. I was crying for every woman who ever left, who ever lied, who ever didn’t want me, who passed the time with me even though she didn’t care about me. I cried for that college girl who drank and kissed too much to cover the pain. I cried for the adult woman who couldn’t love.
We talked as she held me in her arms, rocking me and gently rubbing her fingertips around my back.

“Look, you are intelligent and funny and I love your company and talking to you,” she said. “But, you just weren’t it and I knew that all along.”

She stumbled over the last part. And as much as it hurt to hear and as embarrassed as I was, I finally got the break up speech she never bothered to deliver years ago. And for better or for worst, I finally knew.

She got up and dressed herself. She was gone in less than 5 minutes. Without any words, we exchanged our goodbyes with a simple eye contact and a nod.

I felt alone and unloved. So I did what people who feel alone and unloved do: I cried some more. Until I was shocking on my sobs.

Until I couldn’t produce any tears.

Until I passed out from the exhaustion of being so vulnerable, so melodramatic, so emotional.

I felt alone.

Posted in: , | 2 comments | |  

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)