- Please do not fall
in love with me. You promised you wouldn't…
- I know. Don’t worry.
I know very well where I'm treading on. I have been there before and I won’t
fall in love again.
- OK. Remember you
promised.
- Yeah. I will. You know
that… When are you coming over
again? It’s been quite a while since you last did.
- Maybe next week.
Things are not easy from my side. Wife is demanding attention and she thinks I’m
eating out, but I'm just overworked and feeling a lot tired.
- You need a massage,
a hug and resting your head on my lap. I would cuddle you until you sleep in my
arms, relaxed and happy.
- Sounds like
paradise, but far from achievable in a short time. I must not slip right now or
I will lose everything. We need to be patient.
I gave up. There was nothing I could do,
anyway. I wished life was different. I wished I was different. I wished he was
different. But life is not made of wishes…
- OK. Have your time,
rest a little… or a lot… and when you’re ready again, please let me know.
- I will. Bye for now.
- Bye, sweet man. I’ll
miss you.
- So will I. Sleep
well.
- You too.
The conversation was quite shallow, simple and
almost impersonal. Both sides were being too careful, trying to avoid the
unavoidable. Both believed it was easy to keep their emotions under control.
Married men are, oh, so complicated.
I closed the session, switched the computer off
and went back to normal life. We used to chat every day, at the same time,
saying almost the same things and promising never to fall in love or we would have to stop seeing each other, for the sake of our sanities. He
was a married man with wife and children. A couple of them. I was divorced and
alone. Nothing new about that.
Most of the people I knew were divorced and
would like to remain in that condition, anyway, for as long as they could. Some
of them, however, were scared to grow old alone. I had my life, my past, my
beliefs about love, relationships and solitude. And I enjoyed my life and my
freedom.
Being with him was like having someone and having nothing and no one
to be attached to. But I was not afraid of being alone when I was old... not at all...
I decided to prepare something to eat, rest a
bit, maybe watch some TV and go to bed early. I tried not to think about the
conversation any longer. Having my mind and hands busy for some time would be
perfect for the time being.
The cat got into the kitchen, sitting on the blue
carpet and waiting for his dinner and I started cooking some pasta with
mushroom sauce as soon as I fed him. My only companion was OK with his small
portion of canned tuna for dinner and showed his satisfaction by rubbing his
head on my legs, as soon as he finished. I spoke to him, pat his head and went
back to my cooking, after washing my hands for the millionth time that evening.
I went to bed as planned after the simple meal
of pasta and wine and tried to switch my thoughts off before falling asleep.
I dreamed I was in his arms. His lips were warm
on my front, my eyelids, my face and my lips. His taste was sweet and bitter at
the same time. He was always sweet, but that agreement we made brought a kind of bitterness to my soul that was not news for me whatsoever. He was repeating
those words I could not hear anymore, for as long as I existed, but, alas, one can
only wish. The truth was too hard to bear.
"Please don’t fall in love with me".
How careless and dim-witted could that
agreement be? How unpredictable can a heart be before it is too late?
I knew my
heart very well. I could say all the words and make all the promises and still remain
away from trouble, if I wanted to, but did I really want it? If I were not in
love, how could I be entirely his, when we were together, in those close
encounters?
I loved his smell, his taste, his touch and his openness to my
caresses. I loved the way he let himself pleasure my presence with his own; the
way he said he was all mine and I had full access to everything that I wanted; the way he gave his body to me and the way he used my body for his own pleasure
and for mine, as well, of course. I enjoyed the way he looked at me deep in the eyes and how he closed his eyes when being touched by my fingertips; the way he held my
body close to his, entangling his legs in mine, so we had the impression we
would never fall apart again; the way he kissed me with genuine passion and the
way he loved me.
Yes. The way he loved me. That was more than just physical
contact, I could guarantee. I had other men before and no one had pleased me
with such a passion. He was passionate, kind, attentive, gentle. But he was not
mine.
Or better saying, he was. For some minutes only, sometimes a couple of hours, he was entirely and openly mine, like no one had ever been before.
I was proud of his achievements and his life. He told me once I was the only one
who knew everything about his life and his secret desires. Most of them were so
secret he almost hid them from himself, but they had been shared with me.
What
kind of men would ever do that, without having a blind trust in his lover that way?
- When you think of
me, what do you think of?
He blushed. He was not good at talking about
his thoughts or feelings, especially when referred to our not so called
“relationship”.
I laughed at him. How could he be so sweetly stubborn?
By
saying nothing and blushing like that, he was telling me everything without uttering
a single word. He neither admitted the obvious, nor accepted the truth. What
was going on between us was something to be seriously considered, but we would
never speak it out loud. Deep inside, however, we knew it very well.
What are
words, anyway? Why would one person need to say what was going on in words,
when the feelings were absolutely wordless? I could see it in his eyes. I could
feel it in his body. I could sense it in his thoughts, just by looking at him
and noticing the tender expression of his lovely face. His mouth could never
pronounce the words, but I could hear them being shouted out loud by his sweet
and dark eyes.
I looked at him and thought to myself: you don’t need ever to
admit, but I know you are, indeed, my man.
- And you? What do you
think of, when you think of me?
- I think of angels
and realize how strong and kind you are. I like you very much.
- You are falling in
love. You promised you wouldn't. What are you going to do now?
- I'm not going to do
anything. There is nothing I can do, but let my emotions run free. I like you
very much and I don’t want to lose this. It is important… too important…
- I know, my dear. I
know very well, but you promised…
I kissed his lips. He then responded tenderly,
by opening his wide wingspan and holding me in a warm embrace.
- Let life guide us,
please. Don’t fight it or else we will lose the best of it...
- I won’t, my beloved...
I won’t.
I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling warm
and happy, satisfied and protected by an angel who did not exist in fact. He
was nothing but a sweet idea. He was my concept of perfection. Not flawless in
body or physical attractiveness, although I liked looking at him all the time,
but perfect like a real tender man to grow old with, except that he would never
be mine, after all... Nor I would be his… other than that condition of being
unattachedly attached to each other for those brief moments when the world
could stop turning around and all the problems of our complicated lives would
never come across the bedroom door.
I could not sleep again until the morning sun
hit the bedroom window and made its way through the curtains, telling me it was
time to get up and go back to normal life.
Days went on very slowly and in a very dull way
when we were apart from each other. Some days afterwards, when the doorbell finally
rang, I was all ready for him.
When I opened the door and saw him standing in
front of me with an irresistible smile, my heart missed a beat. I welcomed him
with a grin and flushed cheeks. He said nothing until I closed the door behind
his back and held him tightly in my arms and kissed his lips.
- I missed you.
- Missed you too, my dear…
It was our most remarkable night together. He
was all mine and I was all his. I can’t recall where our clothes fell upon on
our way to my bedroom. I can’t recall what happened from the door to my bed. I
just remember we were so close and entangled to each other that we were almost
one.
I tasted him with hunger. I smelled his manly scent keen for much more. I
never closed my eyes for I wanted to keep him in my sight and memory forever. I
wanted to appreciate his beauty and perfection. I touched every little inch of
his bare skin… carefully and softly, plainly, lustily, intensily… He responded to every
touch of my fingertips and body on his. He never said a word. He just breathed
deeply and moaned lightly.
He then kissed me. It was not just a kiss but a
warm and intensely hungry kiss. He touched my lips and body with passion and desire.
I felt I was so close to heaven I was being touched by an angel with very broad
wings. Then we made love. That was not just lust or sex: it was so much closer
to real love. He was mine and I was his... completely.
- I can’t help but
thinking of you all the time. Do you think it is normal one person having his
thoughts directed to another one, all the time, as I'm doing lately? I keep on
pondering when and how I can be with you… this is certainly a sign of passion…
to my understanding. I have no doubt about that whatsoever… and it scares the
hell out of me…
- How come something
so good and pleasurable scare you? Don't you value our time together?
- This is the thing. I
do appreciate it so much, I think I am hopelessly falling for you and this is
not right. I am going to hurt you and other people who I must not and this is
not fair either to you or them. We must stop seeing each other... urgently!
- My friend, if this
is what you think and you are rather leaving me because you're going to hurt
me, don't... Now, if you're going to harm someone else by being with me or because
you're falling for me, then just leave... now... before it is too late.
He did not say anything when he got up and started
dressing up. He left without a word.
I felt weird and left aside by the man who
gave me his everything that night and took everything out of me just some
minutes afterwards. I felt like I was all worn out and drowning in a sea of
hopelessness. Being left for giving myself too openly and by being too much
involved to someone who was falling for me was too much to bear... Was that
unfair or what?
After that last meeting we grew apart from each
other. Our contacts became almost gone, except for the 'good day' messages which
became rarer and rarer, for he never responded to them. I knew he was avoiding
me that way so he would be sure I could live away from him. He was wrong, but
there was nothing I could do to convince him of the opposite. He was leaving me
because he was concerned of getting more involved than we were. I had never
been. He left me because he loved me... or so he said... and I was sure in my
heart he was sincere...
Days passed on again and again, dully and
sulky. One day, when strolling around in the shopping mall, I saw him. He was
standing by a shop window, looking at a smart leather jacket. My first impulse
was to run towards him and surprise him, hugging and kissing him in front of
the crowd moving around us.
I started walking to him but was held by some strange
feeling, when a woman suddenly came closer and kissed him on the neck. A boy and
a girl approached the couple and they left, walking down the aisles, hand in
hand and smiling to each other. He seemed to be happy.
I felt a sting of a
strange pain, but thought to myself he deserved his life. If he was happy, I
should be happy too. I turned around feeling heavy, but knowing he was not
mine. He had never been anyway and I had to live with that...
unfortunately...
I felt I
needed a hot and very strong coffee urgently… Life would have to slowly go back
to normal and I knew it.
I was alone again, as usual, and although totally hurt inside,
I was not surprised at all…
