‘Am I the man of your dreams?’ he asked. He had this big smile. The one that really lifts your lips up all the way to your ears. ‘Yes’ I thought. ‘At least you could be’. He is so full of shit. So full of himself. And I love it. He is the kind of man I want to be if I was a man. He is the male version of me. But ‘no’ was what I answered. I had an overwhelming desire to tell him to not let me go, to hold me tight, love me, caress me. But these were words I could not say. The only thing I said when he released me from his embrace was ‘We’re awesome.’ And we are. We really are perfect together. I remember him telling me he wanted a girl who would fit perfectly on his arm and when he walked in somewhere, everyone would have noticed her. I was that kinda girl. And he was that kinda guy. When he kissed me, he didn’t just kiss me. He claimed ownership. He kissed me as if his life depended on it. His arms were thick and strong and I felt protected every time he put them around me. I remember his big room, the sunlight falling through the window. His desk full of papers and books. His king size bed surrounded with food and drinks. The bed where we used to lay for hours. The one where our bodies collide together and where we had seen every corner. I remember the noons, the nights, and our morning breakfast. How we both could never get out of bed.
He would tease me. In the worst kind of way. From the first moment I met him I knew what he was like, who he was. But I wanted the experience. I wanted to dig deep into the core of his soul. I wanted to figure out what he was all about. And he became less interesting because he stayed the same. He always thought he had me in the palm of his hand. I hated him for it. I had times where I wanted to hurt him so bad. But he was wrong about me. He never knew me I guess. I am strong. And I can overcome anything. Even though at some points he’d consider me weak and endlessly head over heels. What we had was elastic. Like a rubber band, always pulling back and forth. I love uncertainty, it’s exciting. But when you’ve come to the point where you both know what you want from each other and you’re trying to make things work, I guess there’s no time for playing around. And he did not see it that way. Being in love isn’t childish. It’s the most fun feeling and it brings you the most fun moments in life you’re ever about to experience.
Most of the time we were together, we spent in the car. Just driving around, always had somewhere to go. He was that boy who would never tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. But I had always wanted words, I loved them. They allowed me to express my feelings and I wanted his to do too. Language is allowed to hurt you and seduce you. Words give reason. They would take away the mystery. Love will always be a two way street. It’s charging and taxing. Maybe he was one of those people who long to be with the person they love, but they won’t admit it openly, they don’t show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Or maybe he really just is an asshole who’s not ready to fully comit yet. I don’t know. I only know that unless it is mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it is a waste of time. There are too many simple things in life. Love should not be one of them.
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