About three months ago I met a boy, one whose full name shall remain a mystery. I was on a plane awaiting boarding, parked at gate C12. I stood in the cockpit swapping jokes with the first officer when through the windows I spied a mop of curly, jet-black locks on the ramp below the aircraft. Having always been a sucker for such a head of hair, I hurried to the open R1 door to see if this creature had any potential loveliness of features. As he raised his head to see the foolish girl leaning dangerously out of the open door with nothing but hard concrete twelve feet below, I fell with no handhold into his golden autumn eyes. Metaphorically, of course. Grinning at me, his brown eyes twinkling, he joked, “You’d better not fall out of that plane!” I smiled coyly at him, raising an eyebrow as mock seriousness edged my tone, “If I do then you’ll just have to catch me.”
Thus a conversation ensued about where we lived and upon discovering that we inhabited the vicinity near one another I proposed that we hang out. He concurred and as I found myself writing my name and number on a scrap of paper, I realized that I knew not his name. I wondered what possessed me to embark on such an adventure, but quickly shrugged it off in the name of Carpe Diem. Kneeling to hand the paper with my contact information to him through the door, I asked his name.
“Dave?” I questioned, not hearing him well the first time.
“No, Daniel,” he said, more loudly. I liked his name. A lot.
Later that night as I was in my hotel room in West Palm Beach, Florida, I told another of my flight attendant friends about my mystery boy. Anna, as it turned out, had already met him and quickly deduced from his conversation that he was quite a partier, which information she turned over to me to do with as I so chose.
What I SHOULD have done with it and what I DID do with it may have changed my life forever in a myriad of ways.
So here I am three months later and feeling the inevitable distance between us slowly beginning. So much has happened that I don’t know if I could remember all of it were I to try, but suffice it to say that he is just like EVERY OTHER GUY I’ve ever had a crush on, the typical saga of “bad boy” and “good girl”, although at this point I’m not so sure I can call myself that anymore.
While I’ve maintained a technical “virginity” of body, my mind has been fucked to no end and my soul penetrated in a thousand ways I never thought possible. He is such a bad influence, and while I’ve not necessarily embarked upon recreational activities such as getting wasted or high, I’ve been privy to many a session with him and his friends and the entire time I’ve felt wretched in my heart because it’s not me. I feel that I’ve compromised a part of who I am and I can blame none but myself. I thought that maybe since I’d never experience certain things before that I just didn’t know what I was “missing”, as the cliché rings. But I can’t really say that I DID miss anything. Mindless nights that are so often forgotten by the over-indulgence of black habits are not exactly something I wish to cherish for all time.
It’s a tragedy to admit but it must be done all the same for one must see the reality of a situation before reaching a resolution…I have begun to become the girl I have always sworn against morphing into. That girl who slowly begins to doubt her self worth and allows things she never before would have pandered to because she feels that perhaps SHE is the one who needs a lesson in life. The complacency with which I accepted each blow to the person I am and standards I uphold astounded me, even as I watched the placid lake that was my world turn into a crashing ocean storm, the person I have striven to become slowly being obliterated as I helplessly stood by.
Thankfully I have not yet reached the break down, but should I continue to swirl in this vortex of a relationship I will remain nothing but a shattered vestige of the person I once was.
Am I in love with him? I think not. Certainly I care for him and would never wish any harm to befall him. Still, with the life he leads I can’t help but think a catastrophic demise awaits my broken hero.
Oh of course he can be quite the gentleman, his caring words and thoughtful gestures blinding me momentarily, like when sunlight slices through a dark cloud and hope ensues that perhaps the sun will stay, that the brightness will not be hidden behind the gray confusion of the brooding storm.
I will miss his full lips and the perfection of his kiss, the soft way he caressed my face, the gentle chocolate brown of his eyes smiling into mine. I will cling to the memory of his warm body cradled about me, the way we fit so perfectly together achingly seared into my dreams. His resonant laugh will haunt my thoughts and the way he softened his tone and adoringly called me “Beautiful” will not quickly be forgotten. I will cherish the conversations we shared, the many mornings we eluded sleep until the birds of dawn serenaded us outside the window. My nose will never forget the lingering scent he oftentimes left on my pillow, an exhilarating mix of deep earth tinged with salty sweat reminiscent of a hard day’s work.I will smile to myself as I recall how careful he was with me, how fragile he made me seem at times, how he watched over my well being. The nights of pizza, Jack Daniels, and Mary Jane shared on a summer porch with friends will be looked back upon with mixed feelings as my spirit felt torn in times such as those, but I will never forget the laughs we shared as the full moon shone down upon us. I will always remember his hands, the beauty of their sleek, dark elegance demanding my awe every time my eyes were privileged to rest upon them, and the way his silky curls wound round my fingers as I lazily ravaged them will be a delightful memory indeed. I will soon find myself wishing again for the warmth of his skin against mine as he embraced me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, his sweet breath leaving traces of moisture. The longing for how comfortable he made me feel in my own skin will remain even after he is gone. The way I could transmit a thought into his mind and have it answered even before I spoke a word will forever amaze me; I know I must find someone with which I experience that connection if I am to be truly happy. I will miss his frustrating insecurities, the ones he didn’t even know he had, the ones that caused so much of our discord, yet things that I could never tell him – they are those things one must discover of their own accord lest the chance to revolutionize their life may be missed, oftentimes in denial of what an objective view point might mean to their current lifestyle should it be a correct assertion.
I do not want to do this thing I must do. I wish to continue a relationship with him, to have intimacy with someone as I have sustained with him, to feel that connection and bond that we have had over the past two months for a while longer.
But as I said from the beginning of this entry, we are growing apart. He is not satisfied to be with only me at this point in his life and well, so be it. Life is full of dissenting opinions and there is really no reason to stay where one is not fully wanted. I am giving him his freedom but I am also freeing myself, my spirit, and my heart to go back to what they know and believe, although my experiences with this man will never be forgotten.
And though I’m not sure I can say I’ve been changed for the better, because I knew him, I have been changed for good.
Thus a conversation ensued about where we lived and upon discovering that we inhabited the vicinity near one another I proposed that we hang out. He concurred and as I found myself writing my name and number on a scrap of paper, I realized that I knew not his name. I wondered what possessed me to embark on such an adventure, but quickly shrugged it off in the name of Carpe Diem. Kneeling to hand the paper with my contact information to him through the door, I asked his name.
“Dave?” I questioned, not hearing him well the first time.
“No, Daniel,” he said, more loudly. I liked his name. A lot.
Later that night as I was in my hotel room in West Palm Beach, Florida, I told another of my flight attendant friends about my mystery boy. Anna, as it turned out, had already met him and quickly deduced from his conversation that he was quite a partier, which information she turned over to me to do with as I so chose.
What I SHOULD have done with it and what I DID do with it may have changed my life forever in a myriad of ways.
So here I am three months later and feeling the inevitable distance between us slowly beginning. So much has happened that I don’t know if I could remember all of it were I to try, but suffice it to say that he is just like EVERY OTHER GUY I’ve ever had a crush on, the typical saga of “bad boy” and “good girl”, although at this point I’m not so sure I can call myself that anymore.
While I’ve maintained a technical “virginity” of body, my mind has been fucked to no end and my soul penetrated in a thousand ways I never thought possible. He is such a bad influence, and while I’ve not necessarily embarked upon recreational activities such as getting wasted or high, I’ve been privy to many a session with him and his friends and the entire time I’ve felt wretched in my heart because it’s not me. I feel that I’ve compromised a part of who I am and I can blame none but myself. I thought that maybe since I’d never experience certain things before that I just didn’t know what I was “missing”, as the cliché rings. But I can’t really say that I DID miss anything. Mindless nights that are so often forgotten by the over-indulgence of black habits are not exactly something I wish to cherish for all time.
It’s a tragedy to admit but it must be done all the same for one must see the reality of a situation before reaching a resolution…I have begun to become the girl I have always sworn against morphing into. That girl who slowly begins to doubt her self worth and allows things she never before would have pandered to because she feels that perhaps SHE is the one who needs a lesson in life. The complacency with which I accepted each blow to the person I am and standards I uphold astounded me, even as I watched the placid lake that was my world turn into a crashing ocean storm, the person I have striven to become slowly being obliterated as I helplessly stood by.
Thankfully I have not yet reached the break down, but should I continue to swirl in this vortex of a relationship I will remain nothing but a shattered vestige of the person I once was.
Am I in love with him? I think not. Certainly I care for him and would never wish any harm to befall him. Still, with the life he leads I can’t help but think a catastrophic demise awaits my broken hero.
Oh of course he can be quite the gentleman, his caring words and thoughtful gestures blinding me momentarily, like when sunlight slices through a dark cloud and hope ensues that perhaps the sun will stay, that the brightness will not be hidden behind the gray confusion of the brooding storm.
I will miss his full lips and the perfection of his kiss, the soft way he caressed my face, the gentle chocolate brown of his eyes smiling into mine. I will cling to the memory of his warm body cradled about me, the way we fit so perfectly together achingly seared into my dreams. His resonant laugh will haunt my thoughts and the way he softened his tone and adoringly called me “Beautiful” will not quickly be forgotten. I will cherish the conversations we shared, the many mornings we eluded sleep until the birds of dawn serenaded us outside the window. My nose will never forget the lingering scent he oftentimes left on my pillow, an exhilarating mix of deep earth tinged with salty sweat reminiscent of a hard day’s work.I will smile to myself as I recall how careful he was with me, how fragile he made me seem at times, how he watched over my well being. The nights of pizza, Jack Daniels, and Mary Jane shared on a summer porch with friends will be looked back upon with mixed feelings as my spirit felt torn in times such as those, but I will never forget the laughs we shared as the full moon shone down upon us. I will always remember his hands, the beauty of their sleek, dark elegance demanding my awe every time my eyes were privileged to rest upon them, and the way his silky curls wound round my fingers as I lazily ravaged them will be a delightful memory indeed. I will soon find myself wishing again for the warmth of his skin against mine as he embraced me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, his sweet breath leaving traces of moisture. The longing for how comfortable he made me feel in my own skin will remain even after he is gone. The way I could transmit a thought into his mind and have it answered even before I spoke a word will forever amaze me; I know I must find someone with which I experience that connection if I am to be truly happy. I will miss his frustrating insecurities, the ones he didn’t even know he had, the ones that caused so much of our discord, yet things that I could never tell him – they are those things one must discover of their own accord lest the chance to revolutionize their life may be missed, oftentimes in denial of what an objective view point might mean to their current lifestyle should it be a correct assertion.
I do not want to do this thing I must do. I wish to continue a relationship with him, to have intimacy with someone as I have sustained with him, to feel that connection and bond that we have had over the past two months for a while longer.
But as I said from the beginning of this entry, we are growing apart. He is not satisfied to be with only me at this point in his life and well, so be it. Life is full of dissenting opinions and there is really no reason to stay where one is not fully wanted. I am giving him his freedom but I am also freeing myself, my spirit, and my heart to go back to what they know and believe, although my experiences with this man will never be forgotten.
And though I’m not sure I can say I’ve been changed for the better, because I knew him, I have been changed for good.
