Alright *deep breath* here goes...
I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. The boy was angelic (to me anyway; he was kind of a punkass to other people) and he took a piece of my heart and wrapped it around his finger until it became a twisted piece of twine that could easily be manipulated into any shape he could imagine. He was everything to me. We would wrestle like two wild children in his living room of his apartment and no one would say anything about it because it was innocent--two children letting out steam and aggression in a playful puppy kind of way. We'd lay around my apartment and do next to nothing but just lay there and stare at the ceiling listening to music. We'd walk down the street, around the park, to the store, through the neighborhoods. We'd chase each other around like we were playing tag, only we wouldn't stop at tag--it was a full contact sport--we'd tackle each other to the ground, but we were always careful not to hurt each other. Things changed the day he kissed me. He'd opened the doors to a new kind of play--less innocent, more grown-up. I loved to kiss; I love to kiss.
Years passed.
He kissed me for the first time one depressed evening. The next three weeks are a blur. He kissed so passionately, not like other boys I'd kissed. He was tender and sweet. He let his hand brush my cheek or the hair that fell into my eyes. We were scolded on more than one occasion for not coming home on time, or not coming home at all. We'd just stay up talking in my car all night most the time. Um...oops? *smirk* Going into the begining of us really starting a relationship, I went off to war. I was alone.
Time passed.
It wasn't too long afterward that I'd decided to give my heart to him. I said that I was doing it because I loved him, but I think I was doing it because I thought I was supposed to. There were many things about him that made sense to me, though there were some things that were wrong in ways I could not figure out or express with words. I knew in my mind what my heart didn't want to understand because things seemed so...perfect, imperfect...perfect. He was the one that I would be with "always". I remember kissing him, my favorite thing to do back then, and thinking...oh, he doesn't like to kiss? Good, because he is a horrible kisser, I'm way cool just holding his hand and being close to him. But, I wasn't--it was weird. It was weird in the beginning. I didn't want...him.
Years and time went on.
We'd been friends for a couple of months before she kissed me. Our first kiss turned into a makeout session that lasted a little longer than six hours. And who knew that women kissed so differently than men? Wow. As time went on we eased into other forms of affection--caressing, touching, fondling, fingering, fucking. We were infatuated with the idea of pleasuring each other and ourselves. We'd take turns finding each others erogenous zones until we were completely in tune with each other to the point that we could brush up against one another in a certain way and arouse those feelings of lust that were just under the surface of our friendship facade. The day of doom came. Damn me for allowing myself to do it knowing that she'd never agree to be mine. She was my second heartbreak--I was in love with her then. Eventually I saw our sexcapades for what they were--mutual masturbation. We were using each other to fill the void that each of us had and it worked. We went with it for awhile but when one of us would feel like we were becoming to emotionally attached we'd break it off and try to have a normal friendship again. I began to love her, rather than to be in love with her. I loved her then; I love her now.
Years crawl now.
I almost gave up on love, but then I saw her. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen--her smile lit up the room and even the worst day seemed to get better when I entered the room and saw that she was there. I wonder if it was obvious. I was determined not to get involved with anyone. I met her unexpectedly one night in at the same place I'd been so many times before. A mutual friend introduced us and we were all over each other within an hour. We saw each other casually for a few weeks. I got freaked out by the fact that I was starting to have real romantic notions towards a woman. All my prior experiences had been somewhat innocent. Somewhat undefined. I was searching for meaning. I was uncertain of my intentions.
I wasn't even sure I was attracted to her physically at first. I just felt some kind of bond with her that I had never and have never felt. After a few weeks, I knew it was time to say something to her or I'd lose my chance. It took me a couple of weeks after that to get up my nerve, but I did, and then it was...awkward. Geez, I'm more lame than I thought, I'll leave it be for now. Eventually we stopped being in the same place at the same time, but I was able to grace myself with her presence on a couple of other occasions. I was unsure of myself, unsure of my intentions, and unsure of my ability to hold it all together if I were to get attached and then we were parted and went our separate ways. I never understood the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder until her absence grew nearer and nearer. The strange thing is that we were never really that close, but knowing that she was there was good enough for me. So, I called her, and I took a chance--I put myself out there for better or worse because I thought she was worth it; she is worth it.
The difference between her and the others is that there is no lust involved. I have kissed her. I haven't touched her. She hasn't touched me. I haven't gotten to hold her in my arms the way I held those others, or the way they held me. I hugged her once, right before she left for a short trip, and I knew at that time that I never wanted to let her go; I never want to let her go. The first few weeks after she left were hell on me because I had no idea what the feelings I was having were or why I was having them. I thought I'd lost her and I regretted my hesitation in pursuing a relationship with her when I had the chance. I met another girl. We were hot and heavy for a short-lived while, and eventually, I stopped beating myself up. When that "relationship" or fling, or whatever it was ended, there she was. Back in my life again. Only this time, she was coupled. She had a girlfriend. No more pressure to pursue. No more romantic notions.
It was a relief, in some weird way...that we could just hang out and get to know each other in a non-romantic sense. I grew fond of her; very fond. She intrigued me more than I had ever imagined she could.
But then she cheated on her girlfriend...made out with some other girl one drunken evening. Our friendship was just not the same after that. No, she did not cheat on her with me. I would never allow for that. I have too much respect for relationships. I have too much respect for a committment you make with another person. I know the pain involved in having that bond be broken. We were just friends. But I did grow fond of her and I did want to have her always in my life, but not in that sense.
Then her girlfriend moved for her.
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