healing can become a dangerous
obsession when the band-aid
is laced with your euphoric kisses
and the disinfecting ointment
spread with your medicinal embraces
The mood of our relationship has changed in a way I expected eventually, some time in the far future, but instead surfaced itself in the present time as something of a feeling as more than “like” for each other. We confessed it without actually ever saying the words, the both of us terrified not of what is, but of what has been in our past repeating itself in the future between us.
After a beautiful weekend of late night dining, a starry night at a drive in theater, ice-skating and the most wonderful, amazing, fantastic intimacy with a man I have ever had in a little black dress, we were both delighted and terrified that we found out we felt the same towards each other and yet too cowardly to actually say it out loud to each other, since the moment either one of us realized we started feeling this way.
He was first to admit and repeat and stress that he has felt a lot more than “like” for me. Packed and ready to go back to his place he smiled looked deep in thought and told me he had to tell me something but wasn’t ready to tell me yet. I fussed at him that my best friend died before telling me what he said he needed to tell me many years ago and that now I still wonder what he wanted to say. I asked him why he needs to tease me and can’t just tell me now or why even mention it at all.
He decides to tell me. His face gets serious and as I look at him I recognize the face of a love confession…I’d seen that face many years ago in the man I let get a way. The man standing before me now begins to say he has felt more than like for me. I know what’s coming. I look at him and bury my face into his chest. He tells me he has felt this way for a while. I stupidly ask him to explain. He lifts my chin and then cowardly with a nervous finger points to the word love on a picture frame I have on my wall right above us. He didn’t say it say it, but I knew what he meant before he even pointed. I’ve caught him slipping in the word love and then stopping himself over the past few weeks. He loves spending time with me. He loves when I smile. He loves my squeal noises…He loves when I do this or that… love constantly leaving his mouth and yet careful not to be too direct about it.
And as he points to the love frame I freeze. His bag and computer all packed and ready to go and still on his shoulder ready to finally go home, seriously this time, 4 hours after he had said he would really leave the second time and about seven hours after he said he really needed to leave the first time. I just froze and shut down.
He panics and worries he told me too soon. He, walks over to the stairs, takes his bag off his shoulder, his face red and sits down. I kneel in between his legs on the lower step and bury my face in his chest again still in my shell as he begins to talk and ask me if I need space, if I need him to leave me alone for a while, should he not have told me, am I okay. He wants me to say something.
I don’t want to say anything. I dont want him to know. I’m not ready to let him know how many times I’ve held back from telling him how I feel while we are in bed giggling or on the sofa watching a movie or in bed intimate and looking at each other, or out in public smiling and holding hands… I dont want to tell him about the love poems I’ve written or how he is on my mind everyday. I dont want him to know that his name is always on the tip of my tongue or how… And as I am frozen, face still in his chest, tears running down my cheeks, he is going on in panic about giving me space and at the same time confessing that I am always on his mind.
Suddenly I can’t hold it in anymore. Slowly I begin to tell him how many times I have kept him from knowing how I felt and I describe examples of times I had to bite my tongue and concentrate not telling him what naturally wanted to come out of my mouth because I didn’t want him to know. I feel his body relax a bit and he begins to wrap his arms around me, my face still buried in his chest and I begin to let him hear me cry.
There I sorta said it and he sorta said it and we both admitted we were cowards for not saying it saying it, but we both knew what we meant and now what? Now what? Now what!
That’s when I began to tell him again I wasn’t ready and I turned from him in frustration and I told him he would get tired of me, that they all have. I warned him of my flaws, my craziness, my nagging, my jealousies, my deep need to feel wanted, my need to cling. But it didn’t matter he already knew of this before because he has already seen it in me or because I had already warned him. In turn he worried that he didn’t deserve my kindness, that the mistakes in his past make him not worthy, that the path in his life now is not where he wants to be or expected to be and… I tell him what a wonderful kind selfless person he is and he tells me that he likes his women a little crazy. LOL
We spent another hour or so on the stairs relieved and terrified to know how we felt for each other, confessing how much we really thought about each other throughout the day and how good we felt when near each other and what would come of all that we now know and from time to time I would ball back up into my shell, but in the end we both realized we couldn’t undo how we felt, how we feel.
Now what? One day at a time…