I open my eyes to my 28th birthday at 7:00 am. You’re coming over to pick me up. We’re going to the university again. Will it be fun? Will it help me deal with my birthday better this year? I’m not so sure. Let’s see how it starts off. I, I want you so much these days; as I always do after we have a fight. I want you today. I want you to come in. I want you to want me.
But I’m supposed to play it cool. I’m not going to let you see how bad I need you right now. I’m going to be fully dressed, completely ready, by the time you show up.
Great time management. I’m impressed with myself!
I’m getting my bag when I hear a sound outside my door. Yes, it’s you. I open the door before you get a chance to either ring the bell or use your key.
- What? Do I have a magic key now?
You have no idea how hard it is for me to smile today. Or maybe you do?
I’m going to put up a good show today anyway. I’m going to pretend to be happy, to pretend to have fun, because I know you want to see that happiness today. You don’t need to know that it’s fake.
You walk in. You ask for a kiss and a hug. I’m the birthday girl after all. As I walk into your arms I’m hoping that it will lead to something more serious. As I kiss you I’m wishing for you to just pick me up and carry me to my bed. Do you ever fulfill my dreams? Do you ever give me what I need?
Maybe it’s because you’re already late. Maybe it’s the fact that I even have my shoes on. Whatever the reason, the hug remains a hug, the kiss a kiss. I still have the whole day ahead of me though; to be miserable, or to give you a chance to turn it into something fun. Let’s see what happens.
We’re taking a long ride to the university on your bike. It is early morning. The sun hasn’t had a chance to get everything warm and live yet. As haven’t you. But I’m trying my best. Giving you, and the sun, time to shine through for me today. And it’s a good thing that it’s cold. I’m sitting too close to you. I can feel you. I can smell you. I can feel your body heat through your thick shirt. I know you can feel me too. The question is, does it affect you the way it affects me?
Right now, do you want me as much as I want you? Do you feel as restless as I do? Do you feel as hot inside as I do? Do you feel as if a part of your body is missing? Do you feel the heat, the need, the pain, all over you? Do you want to stop on the road and take me there and then?
Don’t tell me that you don’t.
You know I do.
We make it there. We’re ok. No fights, no discussions, no arguments, no disagreements so far. I’m doing a good job with the show. You actually believe that I’m happy. Or do you?
I’m back to being hungry. I love to tease you about needing my bacon and eggs on each and every morning that we get a chance to be together. I think you enjoy it too. In fact, you seem so pleased to see me eat that I’d be fat in no time if we could hang out more and eat together. Luckily, for both of us, we can’t.
But today we’re lucky in a different sense. We’re lucky, because we’re having breakfast together, after a very long time.
It turns out to be not a very good idea.
- Do you really want to go back to our college for the class today?
- Yes. I have to. And I am going.
- Maybe we can go back to my place instead?
- No. I’ll go to college. You can go home if you want to.
So much for your being nice and kind! You suck!
I throw up the whole breakfast there and then.
But I have to accept it. Maybe you’ll understand one day how hard it is on me to be rejected; to be rejected by you.
The breakfast is over. The matter of going back to my place is settled. We decide to take a walk in our park. There are no weird spiders around this time though. No worries. I’m there to sting you!
- So, you don’t need me anymore. But you’ll regret it. Think of all the times that you’re going to have to jack off to my image! Because after today, that’s all you’re going to get!
You just laugh. You’re learning to see the funny side of my anger. You’re beginning to realize that I just say those things to get back at you. That the only thing that I really mean when I talk to you is that I love you. It’s a great feeling. To have you smile at my not so serious anger. I wish I could also get you to respond well to my real issues.
We need that understanding sooner than we imagine. It’s in the cab, on the way back to our college. You have your hand on my knee. It’s about the most aggressive you can get in public. And I’m making peace with it. I don’t really need you to do anything wild for me. The smallest touch, the shortest smile, the simplest look will do.
But then your phone rings. It’s Molly. And you tell her that you’re skipping your second class today. The first time I hear about it. It hurts. I just try to ignore it; to ignore you; to just gaze outside and not see anything; not feel you.
I don’t know what happens now. You’re holding my hand. You’re pressing it. You’re hurting it. The cuts on my palm, I’ve lost count of them, they’re hurting and burning like crazy. Why don’t you let go? The pain is blinding me. And you keep saying:
- Open your fist.
- Open your fist now!
- OPEN YOUR FIST.
- Please!
Your voice is angry, yes. But the last word you say, there’s a lot more pain in it than anger. I turn my head. I look at your teary eyes. I open my fist. And the pain ends. As it happens, you aren’t hurting me. It is me, the whole time. I am pushing my nails into the wounds…
God knows I’m sorry. I don’t even notice that I’m doing that. I don’t mean to hurt myself; don’t mean to hurt you. I put my arms around you. I kiss your wet eyes a hundred times. I whisper to you and try to comfort you.
I expect you to do the same to me. You know I’m in pain too. My pain must be a lot worse than yours, a lot deeper. But you do nothing as I put my head on my knees to cry my heart out.
I feel so not loved, not wanted, not needed. What’s the point of crying? I need to act.
We’re approaching a red traffic light. That’s my green light, my window of opportunity, my way out. I tell you how sorry I am. I kiss you on the lips. And the cab’s still moving when I open the door and step out.
I lose my balance. I’m about to fall. In the middle of the road. With cares moving around. I fall, I die. You don’t try to hold me. I manage to stay on my feet. I walk on. I see your cab drive by. It’s only now that I remember how you tend to disappear when I walk out on you.
I can’t take that. I can’t afford that. I call you on your phone:
- Are you really going to college?
- Yes. Almost there now.
- I need to talk to you.
- We will. After the class.
You cold bastard! Wait till the day when I don’t love you anymore. You’ll pay dearly for all these. For now, you have the higher hand. It won’t last forever though.
I walk inside. I see my gang of girls. They’re going out for tea. I’ve already been sick this morning. I’m not eating or drinking, ever again! I just go to the class, looking for you. I’m not there yet when you call. Tell me you’re not coming. Ask me to pick you up.
I pick you up in about ten minutes. You’re going to get something for lunch and head back home to Molly. I’m supposed to be hurt. But as you sit in the cab, as I thank you for talking to me, you just wrap me tightly in your arms and kiss me on the cheek.
The sun is out again. It’s warm again. There’s light, hope, life again.
I’m in your arms.
I offer you a new deal:
- Why don’t we try something new? I want you to tell me whatever it is that you want me to do for you. And I swear to our love that I’ll do it for you. In return, I’ll tell you how I want you to treat me, and if it is within your power, you do it for me. Agreed?
- Nothing vague like be nice or be kind?
- No. nothing vague. Plain simple English.
- Give me an example.
- Ok. Like when I walk out on you. You’ve ignored me. You’ve shouted at me. You’ve disappeared on me. You’ve done it all. Except for one thing.
- I can’t beg you.
- No silly! Next time, just hold me. See if that works. Maybe if you do that once, just once, then I’ll never walk out again.
- Why do you do it?
- Because I need you to hold me. Because you don’t do it of your own. I feel you will if you see me hurt, see me walking out.
Those eyes. Those shiny tears. How can you tell me you don’t love me?
We sit in the restaurant to wait for your food. You put my birthday present on the table. The present that I don’t want to receive. The present that scares me so much. I don’t know why. But there it is. I can’t refuse it. It’s mine. It’s from you. It’s in front of me. In front of my eyes. I can’t resist.
I’m all laughter as I open the wrapping paper. It’s the craziest gift ever.
- If my friends ask me what I got for my birthday, I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d have to say let me show it to you. I don’t know what it is!
That’s true. I don’t know. Neither do you. It is the most special gift I’ve ever received; not so far; not yet; ever. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t have a name. It just, is! And it’s my birthday present. It’s from you. It’s mine.
I simply love it.
It’s Molly’s birthday tomorrow. You haven’t got her a gift yet.
- For the last time, do you want me to go with you?
- I want to be with you more. But it will upset you to watch me shop for her.
- Honey, the way I see it, you’re going to get her something whether or not I’m there. But if I’m there, at least I get to spend more time with you. Why should I be upset with that?
- Are you sure? I’d love you to go with me?
That’s how we arrange to meet again, in an hour. We kiss goodbye, and we go our separate ways. For an hour or so…
I’m in the fitting room, trying on a couple of tops. I’m treating myself to a birthday gift let’s say. You call to say that you’ll be early. I’m obviously pleased. I show you the few pieces of jewelry that I know Molly likes when you join me. They seem to be way too expensive for your budget. And as strange as it may seem, it really pleases me. I still remember how she bought your birthday present. How she was all into shopping for your cousin, but not spending money on you. It’s a good thing that you’re not going out of your way for her either. I’m happy I’m there with you to see it.
So we go to your place, where you got my present from. It’s obviously a favorite shop of yours. And it so becomes of mine.
We have so much fun in there. There are shoes and bags, clothes, jewelry, household items, stationary, everything. All sort of traditional, eastern. You and I are having a jolly time. Looking at stuff. Making fun of some. Appreciating some others. It feels like we are two six-year-olds, left in the middle of the biggest toyshop, with no one around to stop us from picking up toys and playing with them.
You think I’m pretending. Now that I’m really having fun. How perceptive of you!
We stay there for a long time. We laugh and talk and hold hands. We are really six. Innocent. Playful. Happy. We don’t have a worry in the world. We are together. We have each other. Who can ask for more?
Then you suggest we go to the next shop, a book store, where I can get lost in the see of books for hours. Only thing is, a classmate of ours who happens to know Molly works there too. I’m doubtful. And I have better plans.
- How much time do you have left?
- An hour and a half.
- What do you say we take the rest of the party to my place?
You don’t say yes. You don’t say no either. I’m really sick and tired of your silent treatments. What I actually tell you is that I’m tired though. That I want to go back home.
We have to return our movies to the library first. You want to go with me. I always want to have you around. It’s settled.
On the way you talk to me:
- It’s just a matter of time management. It’s simply because Molly knows today is your birthday. I didn’t believe I could get to see you today. But I’ve spent the longest time in ages with you today. I just don’t want to push my luck. I just want you to do something for me. Don’t be a kid. Don’t go home thinking that I didn’t go with you because you’re not beautiful enough or desirable or anything like that. Ok?
I hear you. I see your point. But you’re not in my shoes right now. You’re not in my pain. You’re not living on tears and blood. You’re not holding on to a love your partner has denied. You don’t have sharp pieces of iced blood running through your veins. You don’t understand.
I still try to pretend.
When we come out of the video-library I lose it again. It’s because of what you say:
- Now I’m going to put you in a cab, make sure you go home.
- Where else do I have to go to? You have no idea how my life is. I just sit there all the time. The smallest sound from outside makes my heart stop. I wonder if it’s you. My phone never rings. Because whenever people call me I tell them that the battery is dying. I don’t want the line to be busy in case you call. I have all these fantasies about how and when we will be together again. I dream of having an actual foreplay with you. When we get a chance to make love every once in a blue moon, neither one of us can wait anymore…
I do it again. The whole nine yards. Tears. Sobbing. Coughing. Weeping. Breaking down in your arms. I just don’t want to be alone today, of all days. I want you. I want to be with you. I want to be close to you. I can’t let you go.
Yet, I do.
I turn my phone off the moment you let go of my fingers.
I’m home. Just arrived. I’ve taken my shoes off. Done nothing else yet. And I hear a strange noise outside. I look out. There you are.
How can this be happening?
My eyes are tricking me. My mind is. I need you, miss you so much, that I’m having hallucinations of you. But you wave. It is really you out there.
- What are you doing here?
- May I come in?
- Of course. Just explain what you’re doing here.
- Why is your phone off?
- What?
Yes. I always deny when I’m out of good justifications!
- Your phone is off. Why?
- Ok. I was upset. I wanted you to call, to get worried. Wanted you to suffer.
You don’t waste your time on stupid details anymore. I’m tucked in your arms. Warm. Safe. Happy. Alive. I’m beautiful and desirable enough. I’m tall and lean and attractive again. Your lips are on mine. Your tongue is getting to know mine. Your mouth is exploring mine. You still manage to talk:
- Are you still hungry?
- Not for food anymore.
- You know that I’m very tired.
- You mean I can’t help with that?
- You realize that I’m not a machine?
We sit on my couch. Still kissing. Still talking:
- You know that I have this fantasy about this couch? Can we turn it into a bed?
- Honey, we have made love on this baby before!
- No we haven’t.
- Yes we have. Remember the night before the trip? When you dropped me home? When you didn’t even take off your shoes or pants?
- Was it on this? Can you show me how it was?!?
You force me up. Our lips never part. And yet we get undressed in seconds. I’m lying down again. You’re on top of me. You keep asking if this is the way it was that night.
You’re hands cup my breasts. When your mouth leaves mine I can’t object. It feels as good where it is now. On my heart. Not simply feeling its beat. Nibbling. Teasing. Giving it a whole new beat altogether.
You’re on top of me. You wonder why I love it so much the traditional way! It’s funny. But you touch me on all the right places like this; outside and inside.
You’re on top of me. And you’re inside me.
Does everybody talk at this time? I don’t know. But I love it that we do. For one thing, it makes you last longer! You’re good without the help of the extra distraction that talking provides. But I love to make it take longer anyways. Besides, I don’t think you can lie to me now.
- How can you ever say no to this?
- I don’t.
- Tell me that you don’t love me now.
- I never meant it. Didn’t mean for it to hurt you.
- If you love me, admit it now. If you don’t, now’s the time to say so.
- Don’t you ever regret this. Don’t you ever blame me for this. Don’t you ever…
- I won’t.
- I do love you.
- I know you do. I’ve always known.
- Now tell me how you like it. I want it to be right for you.
- It’s always right. It’s you and me. How can it not be?
I can’t say that it’s our best time together. It’s the best time yet. But next time will be better. The next better. And the next…
It feels like our bodies are getting synchronized. Like they function as one. Can you feel it too?
- But you can’t blame me simply because I’ve said it.
- You’re telling me how you feel. You’re not promising me anything.
More tears. In your eyes. In mine. But I’m happy. Haven’t had such a great birthday in years. With so many ups and downs. In one simple day. You change my life in so many small ways. I love what you do to me; what you do to my life.
I love, you…
But I’m supposed to play it cool. I’m not going to let you see how bad I need you right now. I’m going to be fully dressed, completely ready, by the time you show up.
Great time management. I’m impressed with myself!
I’m getting my bag when I hear a sound outside my door. Yes, it’s you. I open the door before you get a chance to either ring the bell or use your key.
- What? Do I have a magic key now?
You have no idea how hard it is for me to smile today. Or maybe you do?
I’m going to put up a good show today anyway. I’m going to pretend to be happy, to pretend to have fun, because I know you want to see that happiness today. You don’t need to know that it’s fake.
You walk in. You ask for a kiss and a hug. I’m the birthday girl after all. As I walk into your arms I’m hoping that it will lead to something more serious. As I kiss you I’m wishing for you to just pick me up and carry me to my bed. Do you ever fulfill my dreams? Do you ever give me what I need?
Maybe it’s because you’re already late. Maybe it’s the fact that I even have my shoes on. Whatever the reason, the hug remains a hug, the kiss a kiss. I still have the whole day ahead of me though; to be miserable, or to give you a chance to turn it into something fun. Let’s see what happens.
We’re taking a long ride to the university on your bike. It is early morning. The sun hasn’t had a chance to get everything warm and live yet. As haven’t you. But I’m trying my best. Giving you, and the sun, time to shine through for me today. And it’s a good thing that it’s cold. I’m sitting too close to you. I can feel you. I can smell you. I can feel your body heat through your thick shirt. I know you can feel me too. The question is, does it affect you the way it affects me?
Right now, do you want me as much as I want you? Do you feel as restless as I do? Do you feel as hot inside as I do? Do you feel as if a part of your body is missing? Do you feel the heat, the need, the pain, all over you? Do you want to stop on the road and take me there and then?
Don’t tell me that you don’t.
You know I do.
We make it there. We’re ok. No fights, no discussions, no arguments, no disagreements so far. I’m doing a good job with the show. You actually believe that I’m happy. Or do you?
I’m back to being hungry. I love to tease you about needing my bacon and eggs on each and every morning that we get a chance to be together. I think you enjoy it too. In fact, you seem so pleased to see me eat that I’d be fat in no time if we could hang out more and eat together. Luckily, for both of us, we can’t.
But today we’re lucky in a different sense. We’re lucky, because we’re having breakfast together, after a very long time.
It turns out to be not a very good idea.
- Do you really want to go back to our college for the class today?
- Yes. I have to. And I am going.
- Maybe we can go back to my place instead?
- No. I’ll go to college. You can go home if you want to.
So much for your being nice and kind! You suck!
I throw up the whole breakfast there and then.
But I have to accept it. Maybe you’ll understand one day how hard it is on me to be rejected; to be rejected by you.
The breakfast is over. The matter of going back to my place is settled. We decide to take a walk in our park. There are no weird spiders around this time though. No worries. I’m there to sting you!
- So, you don’t need me anymore. But you’ll regret it. Think of all the times that you’re going to have to jack off to my image! Because after today, that’s all you’re going to get!
You just laugh. You’re learning to see the funny side of my anger. You’re beginning to realize that I just say those things to get back at you. That the only thing that I really mean when I talk to you is that I love you. It’s a great feeling. To have you smile at my not so serious anger. I wish I could also get you to respond well to my real issues.
We need that understanding sooner than we imagine. It’s in the cab, on the way back to our college. You have your hand on my knee. It’s about the most aggressive you can get in public. And I’m making peace with it. I don’t really need you to do anything wild for me. The smallest touch, the shortest smile, the simplest look will do.
But then your phone rings. It’s Molly. And you tell her that you’re skipping your second class today. The first time I hear about it. It hurts. I just try to ignore it; to ignore you; to just gaze outside and not see anything; not feel you.
I don’t know what happens now. You’re holding my hand. You’re pressing it. You’re hurting it. The cuts on my palm, I’ve lost count of them, they’re hurting and burning like crazy. Why don’t you let go? The pain is blinding me. And you keep saying:
- Open your fist.
- Open your fist now!
- OPEN YOUR FIST.
- Please!
Your voice is angry, yes. But the last word you say, there’s a lot more pain in it than anger. I turn my head. I look at your teary eyes. I open my fist. And the pain ends. As it happens, you aren’t hurting me. It is me, the whole time. I am pushing my nails into the wounds…
God knows I’m sorry. I don’t even notice that I’m doing that. I don’t mean to hurt myself; don’t mean to hurt you. I put my arms around you. I kiss your wet eyes a hundred times. I whisper to you and try to comfort you.
I expect you to do the same to me. You know I’m in pain too. My pain must be a lot worse than yours, a lot deeper. But you do nothing as I put my head on my knees to cry my heart out.
I feel so not loved, not wanted, not needed. What’s the point of crying? I need to act.
We’re approaching a red traffic light. That’s my green light, my window of opportunity, my way out. I tell you how sorry I am. I kiss you on the lips. And the cab’s still moving when I open the door and step out.
I lose my balance. I’m about to fall. In the middle of the road. With cares moving around. I fall, I die. You don’t try to hold me. I manage to stay on my feet. I walk on. I see your cab drive by. It’s only now that I remember how you tend to disappear when I walk out on you.
I can’t take that. I can’t afford that. I call you on your phone:
- Are you really going to college?
- Yes. Almost there now.
- I need to talk to you.
- We will. After the class.
You cold bastard! Wait till the day when I don’t love you anymore. You’ll pay dearly for all these. For now, you have the higher hand. It won’t last forever though.
I walk inside. I see my gang of girls. They’re going out for tea. I’ve already been sick this morning. I’m not eating or drinking, ever again! I just go to the class, looking for you. I’m not there yet when you call. Tell me you’re not coming. Ask me to pick you up.
I pick you up in about ten minutes. You’re going to get something for lunch and head back home to Molly. I’m supposed to be hurt. But as you sit in the cab, as I thank you for talking to me, you just wrap me tightly in your arms and kiss me on the cheek.
The sun is out again. It’s warm again. There’s light, hope, life again.
I’m in your arms.
I offer you a new deal:
- Why don’t we try something new? I want you to tell me whatever it is that you want me to do for you. And I swear to our love that I’ll do it for you. In return, I’ll tell you how I want you to treat me, and if it is within your power, you do it for me. Agreed?
- Nothing vague like be nice or be kind?
- No. nothing vague. Plain simple English.
- Give me an example.
- Ok. Like when I walk out on you. You’ve ignored me. You’ve shouted at me. You’ve disappeared on me. You’ve done it all. Except for one thing.
- I can’t beg you.
- No silly! Next time, just hold me. See if that works. Maybe if you do that once, just once, then I’ll never walk out again.
- Why do you do it?
- Because I need you to hold me. Because you don’t do it of your own. I feel you will if you see me hurt, see me walking out.
Those eyes. Those shiny tears. How can you tell me you don’t love me?
We sit in the restaurant to wait for your food. You put my birthday present on the table. The present that I don’t want to receive. The present that scares me so much. I don’t know why. But there it is. I can’t refuse it. It’s mine. It’s from you. It’s in front of me. In front of my eyes. I can’t resist.
I’m all laughter as I open the wrapping paper. It’s the craziest gift ever.
- If my friends ask me what I got for my birthday, I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d have to say let me show it to you. I don’t know what it is!
That’s true. I don’t know. Neither do you. It is the most special gift I’ve ever received; not so far; not yet; ever. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t have a name. It just, is! And it’s my birthday present. It’s from you. It’s mine.
I simply love it.
It’s Molly’s birthday tomorrow. You haven’t got her a gift yet.
- For the last time, do you want me to go with you?
- I want to be with you more. But it will upset you to watch me shop for her.
- Honey, the way I see it, you’re going to get her something whether or not I’m there. But if I’m there, at least I get to spend more time with you. Why should I be upset with that?
- Are you sure? I’d love you to go with me?
That’s how we arrange to meet again, in an hour. We kiss goodbye, and we go our separate ways. For an hour or so…
I’m in the fitting room, trying on a couple of tops. I’m treating myself to a birthday gift let’s say. You call to say that you’ll be early. I’m obviously pleased. I show you the few pieces of jewelry that I know Molly likes when you join me. They seem to be way too expensive for your budget. And as strange as it may seem, it really pleases me. I still remember how she bought your birthday present. How she was all into shopping for your cousin, but not spending money on you. It’s a good thing that you’re not going out of your way for her either. I’m happy I’m there with you to see it.
So we go to your place, where you got my present from. It’s obviously a favorite shop of yours. And it so becomes of mine.
We have so much fun in there. There are shoes and bags, clothes, jewelry, household items, stationary, everything. All sort of traditional, eastern. You and I are having a jolly time. Looking at stuff. Making fun of some. Appreciating some others. It feels like we are two six-year-olds, left in the middle of the biggest toyshop, with no one around to stop us from picking up toys and playing with them.
You think I’m pretending. Now that I’m really having fun. How perceptive of you!
We stay there for a long time. We laugh and talk and hold hands. We are really six. Innocent. Playful. Happy. We don’t have a worry in the world. We are together. We have each other. Who can ask for more?
Then you suggest we go to the next shop, a book store, where I can get lost in the see of books for hours. Only thing is, a classmate of ours who happens to know Molly works there too. I’m doubtful. And I have better plans.
- How much time do you have left?
- An hour and a half.
- What do you say we take the rest of the party to my place?
You don’t say yes. You don’t say no either. I’m really sick and tired of your silent treatments. What I actually tell you is that I’m tired though. That I want to go back home.
We have to return our movies to the library first. You want to go with me. I always want to have you around. It’s settled.
On the way you talk to me:
- It’s just a matter of time management. It’s simply because Molly knows today is your birthday. I didn’t believe I could get to see you today. But I’ve spent the longest time in ages with you today. I just don’t want to push my luck. I just want you to do something for me. Don’t be a kid. Don’t go home thinking that I didn’t go with you because you’re not beautiful enough or desirable or anything like that. Ok?
I hear you. I see your point. But you’re not in my shoes right now. You’re not in my pain. You’re not living on tears and blood. You’re not holding on to a love your partner has denied. You don’t have sharp pieces of iced blood running through your veins. You don’t understand.
I still try to pretend.
When we come out of the video-library I lose it again. It’s because of what you say:
- Now I’m going to put you in a cab, make sure you go home.
- Where else do I have to go to? You have no idea how my life is. I just sit there all the time. The smallest sound from outside makes my heart stop. I wonder if it’s you. My phone never rings. Because whenever people call me I tell them that the battery is dying. I don’t want the line to be busy in case you call. I have all these fantasies about how and when we will be together again. I dream of having an actual foreplay with you. When we get a chance to make love every once in a blue moon, neither one of us can wait anymore…
I do it again. The whole nine yards. Tears. Sobbing. Coughing. Weeping. Breaking down in your arms. I just don’t want to be alone today, of all days. I want you. I want to be with you. I want to be close to you. I can’t let you go.
Yet, I do.
I turn my phone off the moment you let go of my fingers.
I’m home. Just arrived. I’ve taken my shoes off. Done nothing else yet. And I hear a strange noise outside. I look out. There you are.
How can this be happening?
My eyes are tricking me. My mind is. I need you, miss you so much, that I’m having hallucinations of you. But you wave. It is really you out there.
- What are you doing here?
- May I come in?
- Of course. Just explain what you’re doing here.
- Why is your phone off?
- What?
Yes. I always deny when I’m out of good justifications!
- Your phone is off. Why?
- Ok. I was upset. I wanted you to call, to get worried. Wanted you to suffer.
You don’t waste your time on stupid details anymore. I’m tucked in your arms. Warm. Safe. Happy. Alive. I’m beautiful and desirable enough. I’m tall and lean and attractive again. Your lips are on mine. Your tongue is getting to know mine. Your mouth is exploring mine. You still manage to talk:
- Are you still hungry?
- Not for food anymore.
- You know that I’m very tired.
- You mean I can’t help with that?
- You realize that I’m not a machine?
We sit on my couch. Still kissing. Still talking:
- You know that I have this fantasy about this couch? Can we turn it into a bed?
- Honey, we have made love on this baby before!
- No we haven’t.
- Yes we have. Remember the night before the trip? When you dropped me home? When you didn’t even take off your shoes or pants?
- Was it on this? Can you show me how it was?!?
You force me up. Our lips never part. And yet we get undressed in seconds. I’m lying down again. You’re on top of me. You keep asking if this is the way it was that night.
You’re hands cup my breasts. When your mouth leaves mine I can’t object. It feels as good where it is now. On my heart. Not simply feeling its beat. Nibbling. Teasing. Giving it a whole new beat altogether.
You’re on top of me. You wonder why I love it so much the traditional way! It’s funny. But you touch me on all the right places like this; outside and inside.
You’re on top of me. And you’re inside me.
Does everybody talk at this time? I don’t know. But I love it that we do. For one thing, it makes you last longer! You’re good without the help of the extra distraction that talking provides. But I love to make it take longer anyways. Besides, I don’t think you can lie to me now.
- How can you ever say no to this?
- I don’t.
- Tell me that you don’t love me now.
- I never meant it. Didn’t mean for it to hurt you.
- If you love me, admit it now. If you don’t, now’s the time to say so.
- Don’t you ever regret this. Don’t you ever blame me for this. Don’t you ever…
- I won’t.
- I do love you.
- I know you do. I’ve always known.
- Now tell me how you like it. I want it to be right for you.
- It’s always right. It’s you and me. How can it not be?
I can’t say that it’s our best time together. It’s the best time yet. But next time will be better. The next better. And the next…
It feels like our bodies are getting synchronized. Like they function as one. Can you feel it too?
- But you can’t blame me simply because I’ve said it.
- You’re telling me how you feel. You’re not promising me anything.
More tears. In your eyes. In mine. But I’m happy. Haven’t had such a great birthday in years. With so many ups and downs. In one simple day. You change my life in so many small ways. I love what you do to me; what you do to my life.
I love, you…
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