Three-day long relationships are frequent with us. We thrive on them and they are magnificent.
All of my emotions surfaced before we spoke, I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry for catching you off guard. I didn't mean to. But I suppose I knew what I was doing. You were so nervous, and for a moment I thought the tables had turned. But they never really do.
When I met you at the jazz bar downtown (I was late because I, of course, took the wrong subway) I stayed calm. I wasn't nervous. I was so excited to see you again, to look into your eyes, to share an evening together. I saw you between two people sitting, looking at me. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, and neither could you. You had your usual - the nicest beer you can get at the bar. You shook with excitement. I love when you do that. It makes you so real.
You wore your sharpest outfit, and so did I. I went for "business-casual" with a lacy shirt and red lipstick (for *** appeal). We both succeeded in impressing one another. Nothing had changed. We sat close and I thought our smiles would be on our faces for the rest of eternity.
It was clear that we would spend the night together when you reached across the table and pushed my hair out of my face. I blushed and giggled. The jazz music filled the bar, but we paid no attention. We were so captivated by one another. The mere existence of you was overwhelming to me.
When small-talk presented itself it was clear that there was no interest. Words would come out of our mouths slowly, not meaning anything, as we looked at each other, and telepathy kicked in. We would stop mid sentence just to look at each other.
You ate all of the chicken wings. I hate three. They were gross. You felt sick, but you still smiled. When you tried to kiss me in the bar I felt powerful by teasingly pulling away. And as soon as we got to your car our lips were locked in the most passionate kiss of the century. The touch of your lips on mine could cure world hunger. The thought of that can simultaneously bring tears to my eyes and and put a smile on my face.
At your incredibly low-ceilinged basement apartment we began to talk about snare drum. We didn't want to. "Let's not talk about snare drum right now." "I hate snare drum." After that we took our time to make love. In your bed of a hundred small blankets instead of one big one, with you laying on top of me, our bodies so close and so warm, smiling from ear to ear, my eyes filled with tears and I couldn't help from telling you that I love you. So much. And you responded with the same. I didn't want to cry because I didn't want you to think that I was sad. I wasn't sad. I was so amazed by the overwhelming happiness that was sweeping me off my feet.
The following days were amazing. But reality had kicked in. This is so real, but it's fleeting. As it is. That didn't stop me from loving every second that I spent with you. There were so many moments that have been carved into my mind. Your face in the bar. When you put your arm around me in front of our friends. When you kissed me at the cafe. When I told you about the other guy - you were so jealous, though you would never admit it.
When we were playing board games at the bar/cafe (the barfe) and you talked to me about god - not bible, jesus, catholic god, but god as an inexplicable power - as something to believe in to have hope. A "greater power". I was so amazed by your explanation and the wisdom with which you spoke. I could have sworn I had never loved you more. But I can say that about so many moments. I'm glad you bought that book I told you to get.
I'm not as hurt as I had been before this weekend. I am amazed that you are able to see this relationship for what it is - incredibly real and true and unbelievably beautiful, but dysfunctional at this point in our lives. I wish I wasn't waiting for you, but I always will be. I'm yours, my love.