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Archive for April, 2013

Last night someone told me our love story was beautiful and sweet. Too bad its demise was tragic. I know you don’t see what I see, but what I felt was felt because of what you put out there. Your touch was gentle, your soul was kind, your eyes twinkled. The way you touched me, held me kissed me. You said you saw the baby bear in the sky, I asked where all of his/her family members were you said poppa bear and momma bear were right here. It was so sweet. The eskimo kisses, the intertwining of bodies, the way you held my hand and kissed my cheek, and bit my nose, ears and toes. Now you’re gone. I sent your life back to you, and all I got was a “thanks a bunch, I got the box”. Funny, I wasn’t sure how we would ever end, I hoped we never would, I never thought the last thing you would say to me was “thanks a bunch, I got the box”. I won’t text or email you, I have nothing to say. I told you I loved you, and you walked away. the next shot is yours to take, i’ll be waiting.

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It’s been almost ten years since we first met. In ten years I’ve forgotten so much of the everyday things I’ve done. When I move house and find little momentos of these things I’m amazed by how much can lay dormant in my brain awaiting a little trigger.

I still remember that night we met, and so many little things from that night act as triggers. Cranberry Juice. A red beret. Town Hall steps. The buzz of the air in springtime at dusk.

The way you danced, the cheeky smile and the natural groove. I could see you knew how to find the rhythm in the music and match it to your body’s way.

When I see a girl dancing for attention, scripted by the latest filmclip and seeming all out is sync, I think of you. I think of how natural and vital you were and I see my girlfriend at the time trying to dance away her sadness. I tried the best I could to hide the effect you’d had on me, but she knew. She could see the change in my face.

From that night everything about you echoes through my day. The passion for social change and the care of others. The way you can step in with both feet. Your concern with your weight and my insensitive comments. I couldn’t understand your worry because you are perfect to me.

We had times together that will always stay with me, even if I get old timers and can’t remember my name, I’ll remember them.

The night you came back to kiss me.

I couldn’t because I knew how much he loved you too.

I couldn’t because I didn’t think I could be what you deserved.

I should’ve, but I wasn’t brave enough to jump with both feet.

Now you live in a place I’d love to be. On the other side of the world. Where my sister found and lost her true love.

I remember thinking that when all the busy years had flown, we’d find eachother again. I thought that in time the poles would flip. We’ll fit together in cuddles and my mind will no longer be dormant.

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I saw you come into the bar and give the bouncer the hugest hug. I love it when men are affectionate with each other, so I noticed you instantly. You had scruff and a flannel shirt and the best dance moves. I was watching you, but we never spoke or danced together.

Apparently you noticed me noticing you. You told me later that’s why you asked for my number.

We texted a bunch here and there but never got around to hanging out until months later.

We finally went out for an epically long date, though I wasn’t sure it was a date the entire time. You are witty and fun and we got along, despite the fact you are super religious.

We awkwardly half kissed goodbye in a pretty non-sexual way. I’ve been told so many times that I come on too strong, so I was sort of letting you take the lead in this situation. I assumed you wouldn’t contact me ever again.

But two weeks later, we hung out again. I went to your house and we had relatively awkward sex. Certainly not the worst, but not the best either.

And that was it. I think if I texted you, you would politely invite me to go out dancing. But I think if I didn’t text you, I’d never hear from you again.

I cannot figure out what just happened, even a little.

Maybe you just aren’t that into me.

But we seemed to get along, and you kept pursuing me. The next day you told me it was fun and we vaguely referred to future hang out times. I feel like if you just wanted to hook up, you would have approached it differently.

It makes me inclined to think that maybe you just aren’t that into ladies.

But maybe that’s just because I’m used to boys who are feminists.

Maybe you think I’m too fat.

You are really into working out.

Maybe it’s that we became facebook friends and now you think I’m whorish.

But probably you just aren’t that into me.

For what it’s worth, I’d totally hang out with you more if you wanted to figure it out.

Or we could just become dance buddies, which I suspect is what you wanted all along.

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