Saturday, May 20, 2006

First year

I met him at the lowest point in my life. If I hadn't been so vulnerable I probably wouldn't have let him in. But I was, and I did, and he offered a little bit of solace. I treated him so shabbily, so often, that it's a wonder he stuck by me. But he did.

My god, but we had some amazing times. We'd get higher than weather balloons and then lie in bed and giggle, make love, giggle some more, drift off, then wake up in the morning, a bit fuzzy-headed, and make love again. We fucked like bunnies, the two of us, but that's not what I remember about him the most. What I remember is sleeping with him. We lived in the same building, so it was a simple thing to wander down to his floor at 3 am after a long night of studying or drinking or smoking and crawl into bed next to him. He was always so warm, his bed toasty with his body heat, and he always smelled unique and so damn good. It wasn't cologne or deodorant, it's just how he smelled naturally, and I loved it. He smelled sweet and exotic, like he'd just been in a spice shop or burned incense. I loved walking through the chilly halls, then sliding across the sheets to his warm little pocket, smelling his scent, gathering him to me, spoon-fashion, resting my cheek on his back between his shoulderblades. He wasn't good looking, he wasn't particularily tall or athletic, but he was smart and loyal and honest with a barely corrupted innocence that I adored. I grew to love him, something that surprised me then. He was not the sort of person I expected to fall in love with. He was a boy struggling to become a man, and I had until then only known men. I had thought I only wanted men. But he charmed me, and refreshed me, and went a long way towards healing some of my wounds. He was there for me in a way no one had been before.

I hurt him badly, more than once. I hid things from him, I abused his loyalty. He always took me back. I can remember so vividly one night after we fought, I was so stubborn and so was he, and I was sure it was over. Unable to sleep, very late at night, I wrote him an email, apologizing, explaining. Unable to sleep, he got it and answered. Apologized. Begged me to come down and see him. I did so, and will never forget the feeling of relief that washed over me when I held him in my arms and told him I loved him for the first time. We lay together on his bed, his head on my chest, crying softly with relief, my hand stroking his glossy black hair over and over, finally knowing what it was to give yourself to another. To surrender. He taught me that.

The day came when we parted ways, and I saw someone else for a while, someone I should have loved but didn't care a fig for. We broke up, this throwaway boy and I, and I visited my ex. When I saw him I couldn't resist it. It was uncontrollable, such that when we were alone together I had to touch him. It was like magnets snapping together. I kissed his warm neck and inhaled his scent and I was a goner all over again.

Fickle me, a few months later I was restless and moving again. I've barely spoken to him since.


Anonymous Anonymous said...



1:09 PM  
Blogger Adora said...

I think I felt bad about the way I treated him. Sometimes I hide from things like that. I've just been thinking about him because after my computer crashed and burned, I was looking through the data the Future Shop boys saved from it and found some old pictures.

11:36 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I can relate to shame. Feels like it's either hide from it, or wallow in it. Never recover from it. That's too hard. But you've written this, and I'm on the outside looking in. And what I'm reading is the kind of thing one can only write when they're sure of something.

It seems you've accepted the qualities of this man openly, and you love him for who he is. You didn't turn him into an idea. I think you deserve more than a little credit for that, because people don't know how to just love the person anymore.

And it's a shame that a potential lifetime of right is being lost because of a little wrong. If he's not shaming you, then don't shame yourself. When you're in love, you fuck up. That's the nature of the thing. You open your heart, and you're vulnerable, and it's scary, and you do things you later regret. But you learn from it, and you stick with it, because what else can you do? Nothing that's worth having is easy.

Right now, you don't have what you had. If you continue hiding, you may never have it again. Can you live with that?


12:45 AM  
Blogger Adora said...

Interesting comments, G.

I think I will need to address this issue in an upcoming post.

2:54 AM  

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