"the life unlived"

I don't believe that any one language is ever enough to encompass the full scope of human emotion, but English often serves me well. It does, however, lack that word which means - not disagreement, nor a fight - but that interaction between two people where they differ and sadness and discomfort arise. Maybe D would use 'spack' - what a silly little word :) 

So last Friday night, we had a spack. Loving as hard as we do, it brings forth some less desirable emotions, as well. If I was going to be completely serious, there are more than a couple of fears I hold for the future of us. The most potent fear is probably that of whether we can keep this thing burning, whether we'll still be so in love one, five, ten years down the track. It is not something that keeps me up at night - I know that I am deeply and profoundly in love with this man. I know that besides that, I also just plain love him. Quiet, steady, appreciation. An everyday joy. The bread 'n butter. I know that when he does something that I find annoying, I can step back and remind myself of that joy. That when we're emotionally hurt, and sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, I can find it in myself to tuck my body against his, and tell him that even if we're not madly in love every second of being together, I still love him, in that quiet, steady way. My fears are the kind that are assuaged with every growing year, every strengthening tie. 

But he raised his own fear - that of the life unlived. Of other girls, and other paths. I can admit that my initial, visceral reaction brought me to my metaphorical knees. Still not sure where the line is drawn between 'honest' and 'too honest'. My ex-coworker once told me that her and her husband did some self-censoring - that their hearts and minds went to dark places sometimes, and that they shielded one another from that. He reassured me after, but as he told me that he loved me, that I was perfect, that I was everything he'd ever wanted, that sowing wild oats wasn't great at all, and that he had few long-term relationships because he was picky - I quaked a little with the thought of losing him. His fear is the kind that grows with time. 

Reading back on some of the things I've written about D, our love feels like a tumultuous rush. From here, though, it doesn't, really. It just feels right and good and wonderful. I am never happier than when I am wrapped in his arms, tucked into that spot between neck and shoulder. We are going to be OK. I am going to go to South America, going to have the time of my life, and I am going to come home to D. And from then, my marvelous adventures shall also be his adventures. 

Late Thursday night, I cried a little in bed, for happy reasons that time. Late Thursday night, as we talked about the futures ahead of us, he paused in the dark. Buried his face a little further into my breast, and spoke out to the room. "I know this is getting a little ahead of time, but I think I want to go overseas in a few years." Beat. I nod, and my blood pulses. "Would you come with me?" - and the tears spill forth, and my choked 'yes' comes smothered in his skin, elated and low. When I recover myself, I bring my nose to meet his, and stroke that beautiful face with my palms. Tell him "yes" again. 

"I wish to go where you go, and sleep where you sleep."

(I love your body) sometimes we share the same body

Some of my favourite moments with D occur in that sweet spot between physical closeness and lovemaking. That space of time can be deliciously short, languid and unhurried - but it is always wonderful. Last night, we had Korean food and came home to bed. Full and happy, we laid in each others' arms and spoke idly about our lives. I wonder when we'll stop marveling at this wonderful thing that we have; the depth of feeling that seems bottomless. Last night, he held me very tightly. A tear eked itself out, down that lovely cheek. Last night, he told me I was to come back, safely, because he didn't know what he'd do otherwise. The tears started slipping from me as he drew my fingers to his face, the hot dampness of our breathing between us like a fug.

Pop music tells me that a good man is hard to find, but I seem to have stumbled right into one. 

Tomorrow, an exam. In two weeks, all will be done. In three, I will begin a brand-new adventure. 

a letter to my lover

There is something quiet and wild about this; a swelling joy that is both wholly anticipated and wildly exciting. A knowledge that this is something real, that you and I are going to do absolutely wonderful things together.

There is something certain and sure about this; the ease with which you guide my body in motion. That moment when you lay a big hand on me, made especially potent when I sit as your passenger. I like to feed you as you like to drive me.

There is something rewarding and grown-up about this; the occasional friction of you against me. Of working out the kinks, four-and-a-half months in, of paths and ways and means. Of valuing happiness over absolute correctness, and savouring the sweetness of us.

Heart of my heart, blood of my blood. I have never loved a man more, and sometimes I wonder if this is really it. That this might be the whole-haul, longest-term thing. And y'know, sometimes during those sometimes, I think, yeah, that might be kind of nice.

You and me, D. I love you so much.

to keep and to be kept

in love. no complaints. life is great.

(to expand: my boyfriend is heart-wrenchingly amazing. I want to give myself utterly. I want to tell him I love him, every single day because I do. sex is an affirmation. conversation is an inspiration. love is a revelation. my lover, my love, my man - mine.)

tender is the night

I want to get this down before the immediacy escapes me; I want to be able to look back on this.

The big thing is that I'm twenty-two, I guess?

The other things - well, I'm not sure whether they're big or small, so I'll just list them here. It's not really a coherent kind of time for me at the moment - so here goes.

+ MY BIRTHDAY/D

- Generally felt that (after about 2pm,) D really didn't care about my feelings and/or resented my presence. Whether this is because of over-saturation (too much time spent together continuously) or whether he's just a bit of a dickhead is still debatable.

- The bad: Lack of cake, D being a dick about going out for pizza, D totally laughing his head off post blowjob. My period coming and my back being a mass of pain. All disappointing.

- The good: a whole Saturday full of amazing sex (three times! some sort of epic orgasm sequence at 5/6am for me), his gift of board game, 'Twilight Struggle' (severe highlight), our visit to the aquarium.

- Some reference to my being his girlfriend. Some uncharacteristic affection (admittedly, I was clearly annoyed at him at this point) while I was happily discussing boy stuff with his housemate on the couch. Weird. If you want me to be your girlfriend and continue being cool with your friends, D, be nice to me.

- Cried a little in bed. Laid some verbal heavy on him. I am such a drama queen.

- All in all, I am going to get some distance. See him Thursday (if - and only if - he contacts me early enough today) and maybe even skip him out of Saturday's proceedings. He might have bought groceries for my place (apparently he can't live without tea and coffee and Tabasco?) but he knows that if he's not a "real person", he can't meet my friends.

- Mental distance is harder. Is it that I expect too much? Is it because I'm too nice? Is it just because everything is too soon?

+ GOING AWAY

- Fuck yeah, South America!

+ THE TRANSLATOR

- Super-civil birthday email received a few minutes after midnight, 06/08. Attachment with video of baby animals.

- Slightly less civil (but still civil!) birthday phone call received a couple hours before midnight, 06/08. Half an hour conversation. I am still a little bit in disbelief that I actually picked it up, and continued talking. Probably not my smartest relationship move ever.

- Remembered back to my last birthday. Decently-arranged, spectacular gift (videos from home!!) and a hotel room. Plus a cheesecake. OK, the cheesecake was his favourite, but there was a cake, goddamn it. However, had him reference his "effort" in the call, whatta douche.

- Briefly considered in tiny moment of weakness (compounding upon initial weakness in even answering) what it'd be like to go back. Realized it'd still be the same shit, no matter how sweetly he dresses it up now.

- Perhaps I should tell him about D. Maybe once I'm sure D is hanging around.

I'm spending some time these days thinking about what I can do to make happy and good things happen to me. Just throwing a lot of love at people and hoping that it comes back in equal measure doesn't seem to be working. But, y'know, I've started the juggernaut rolling now. I don't think I'm ready to walk away from D yet. I hope I'm not forever destined to be disappointed in my relationships; maybe it's to do with the kinds of people I choose to be with?

I PROMISE TO MYSELF: if/when this thing with D ends, I will find a truly nice boy to date. Someone who is super excited to be with me, and makes me a priority.

At the heart of it, though, I would love for things to work out with D. He makes my body sing and when it is good, it is soul-wrenchingly good. Making him smile - seeing that nutty little grin of his - just makes me so happy. I love making this guy happy. I just hope that with a little time, he learns to love the same, for me.

tender is the night

Am twenty-two. Upsetting!

some historians speak of turning points

...and sometimes, I'm inclined to agree.

It's always at the beginning of a relationship, when the initial headiness still hovers, wraith-like. It's darting into a deserted bar with him, and skipping the rest of the night's plans. It's kissing and kissing and waiting anxiously for the next kiss. It's fried chicken and beer and amazing pizza and awkward eating. It's the way he laughs when truly amused, mouth an open almond and eyebrows comically arched. It's taking off your clothes, trusting that he'll be kind. It was realizing that I felt completely comfortable in his arms, head tucked in and kisses dropped on my crown.

It's that moment in the half-light, when you look at him (those lovely eyes, the pale hands, that sweetness and salt) and you say sincerely - you're really great - and trail that thought silently, helplessly, into - I think I could fall in love with you.

the slow fade of love (it's soft edge might cut you)

Translator,

This is the email that I'm not sending you. I really hope you were drunk when you sent your email, because the prospect that you might send something like that sober is really upsetting to me. There was a line that was crossed tonight, and that was the "maybe possibly tentatively getting back together in five years if we're both single" line.

To recap a couple of things:

+ You dumped me. Via email. Which I not only avoided bitching you out about, but freakin' followed all your fucking directives about what we could talk about and when.

+ You suggested getting back together. I said not unless we both changed, and that we could maybe talk about it in the summer.

+ I gave you my travel dates something like eight months ago.

+ I need to stay in Australia so I can graduate. I am under a really large amount of pressure regarding this. You would know this if you had just asked why I needed to take that class.

+ It is not my fault that you changed your plane ticket around my dates. Big fucking emphasis on this one. It was your choice. Also, remember + number 3? I gave you my dates ages ago. If you made a mistake with yours after I gave you mine, again, not my fault. Don't abuse me for your choices and errors.

What you sent me was borderline abusive. Emotional blackmail is a really shitty thing to pull. Don't tell me you love me. You left me, and then made it all about you. If you didn't think it through well enough, that's not my fault. You are the first guy I've really tried to be friends with, post-breakup. I was looking forward to seeing you, I was. If I didn't express this in the email I sent you, it's because I don't want to be vulnerable. You hurt me when you left. Yeah, our relationship was basically nonexistent at that point, but it still made me bleed.

I loved you once upon a time. Maybe one day, that guy I fell in love with will look at that email he sent, and regret it. I hope you find someone who gives you everything you need, but it won't be me.

Lisbourne

P.S. Fuck you and the fucking horse you fucking rode in on. Don't expect a reply.

tell him, "I miss our little talks"

So I'm a little late for my annual April post, but given the drama of the last year, maybe it's good I held off. Enough of my super regressive teen angst on the interwebs!

The other night I went out to drinks, dinner & a jazz club with a boy, D. He's very much my type physically (taller, dark-haired, well-defined facial features) , and seems to be clever enough. We ended up at my second-favourite drinking spot, and we were drinking beer.

Throughout the night, he had occasionally kissed me on the forehead, as if it was a natural thing to do. At the bar, he placed one on my neck - gently, and maybe with a little affection? I'm not sure. It depends on whether he was trying to get me into bed - awarding him the benefit of the doubt, we'll say yes, with affection. I found myself reacting to it in a very unlikely (?) way. Turning, I kissed his face, feathering one on the corner of an eye-lid, the tenderest arch in the neck, running fingers under the line of jaw. Traced the fine bones in his wrist over and over. He has big hands, I like that. I touched him like a lover, as he touched me like one. We kissed in that grungy corner, close-mouthed and slightly hesitant. And then, he said something that I wasn't expecting, delivered with a hint of smarm.

"Such a tease, and then so eager to please"

...at which point I got a little nippy, and snapped out of the softness. Later, I'd think about it. Was it because he slung his arm around my back, clasping the indentation of waist as we walked? Was it because he kissed me on the forehead as he drew me close, and let me curl in? Was it simply because I was responding in kind? In hindsight, it might have seemed a little coy, a little too seductive? Did it seem clingy? Naive? Needy? I don't even know D - just that he's twenty four and presumably sane, with terrible taste in ties - but for just a few moments, I touched him like I loved him, like he was someone precious. And I thought, am I really ready after two months of being away from the Translator?

It's been a little while since I've honestly made love to someone. The last time was with the Translator, and it made me cry. I don't doubt the Translator loved me, in his way, and I in return, but we fucked far, far more often than we made love. Mostly, our loving was expressed in glances and words across a page. I touched him lovingly, but it was usually a monologue and not a conversation. Often when he was asleep.

I like seeing you sleep. before I bed down, I slip light hands over the planes of your body, and smooth over favorite routes. the round of your bicep fits in the cup of my palm: the road trails down to your hip. sometimes I ask you, in a whisper, - are you awake - and you almost never say yes. soft questions and absurd statements: you hear them all, sweetheart, you just don't know. just know that each night, as I lie down beside you, that I run a hand over that tousled head, and am glad.

At the end of the day, I need to sort my shit out regarding the Translator, even if "sort shit out" for the forseeable future means "don't communicate with him, full stop." Not heading out to the 'Beej in summer, so that helps. Told him the news this morning, and he's being emo and "disappointed". Did he think that seeing me for a weekend was going to fix everything between us? IDK, maybe he was just trying to get laid. Better to stick around in Melbourne. Try not to do any of the weird feeling-touching-transfer onto D. Do well in my exams.

Oh heart. I don't want to be jaded and I don't want to be stupid. I just want a little lovingkindness - and maybe to get laid soon.