His hands were hot on my hips and I instinctively leaned back into him. His breath came closer to my neck…
My lips parted, a sigh escaped me. The flutter of his breathing caressed my neck…
and suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door. “Hey! Hurry it up in there!” a man’s voice shouted.
We jumped apart as if we’d been shocked, looking guiltily into each others’ eyes.
“I should go,” he said. “I…well, I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
He left the bathroom quickly, closing the door behind him. I heard the man on the other side of the door groan in frustration as I turned the lock.
I leaned on the sink and looked at my face. I was flushed across my cheeks and down my neck. My low-neck T-shirt showed pinkened skin across the tops of my breasts. I sprinkled some cool water on my face and chest, trying to catch my breath.
This was a mistake, I decided. It was time to go. I should have never came.
Resignedly, I opened the bathroom door and the sound of the party and the music hit me like a wall. I felt a throb beginning in my left temple.
I began to weave my way through small groups of two and three people, realizing that more people must have come in while I was in the bathroom.
I was almost to the door when I heard Julie’s voice. “Can I have everyones attention? Hello! Can anyone hear me?”
I didn’t want to turn around but I was compelled. Julie had dragged a coffee table into the center of the dance area and was standing on it, clapping her hands for quiet. Soon all eyes were focused on her.
“I want to thank you all for coming,” she began, smiling with her collagen-enhanced lips. “This party wouldn’t have been possible without each and every one of you. But most of all,” she said, turning doe eyes on him. “It wouldn’t have been possible without the love of my life.” People began to clap and Julie reached her hand out to him. “Happy birthday honey.” She said, taking his hand “I love you so much.” Julie threw her arms around him and that was about as much as I could handle.
I turned to the door and walked out.
I’d had to park in the street several houses down. The house was well lit but the street wasn’t, and I walked slowly, trying not to loose my footing in the uneven grade.
I could just make out the shape of my truck when I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned expectantly, thinking this was sounding more and more like some cheesy teen romance novel.
It was him, of course.
“Weren’t you going to say goodby?” He said, panting a little as he caught up.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I didn’t want him to hear a wobble.
“Why not?” He asked, taking me by the upper arms and turning me to face him.
The moon was full, and I could just see the sparkle in his eyes.
Damn, I thought.
“You have Julie in there, pledging her love and throwing this whole party for you. You don’t need me in there to screw it up.” I tried to sound calm and reasonable but I thought I probably sounded whiney. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Besides, she made it perfectly clear how you feel.”
He looked at me. “What are you talking about?”
“I used to mean something to you.”
He looked at me silently, and I felt he was sizing me up. “Do you really believe that?” He asked me quietly. I didn’t answer and he continued, his hands gripping my arms harder. “What else could I tell her? She knew that we had a thing once.”
“A thing?” I interrupted, starting to lose my temper. “Is that all it was? A thing?”
“Oh come on,” he said. “You know it was more than that. You and I …we have that connection. I don’t know how to describe it.”
I nodded. “But what about now?” I asked softly. “All those emails and late-night phone calls…what am I supposed to believe when I came here to see you and instead watched your pet barbie-doll fawn all over you?” I turned to continue walking to my truck. “This was a mistake. It was all one big mistake.”
The tears were falling now and I hoped he didn’t hear it in my voice.
“Please,” he said. “Can I explain?”
I didn’t answer, just kept walking to my truck. When I got in, I saw him from my rearview mirror, still standing in the middle of the road, looking at me helplessly. I gunned the engine and popped the clutch. Tomorrow I would take the first flight out.
I sighed and looked around. I made up my mind to have fun; after all, I’d travelled long enough to get here.
I walked around the edges of the room, avoiding the center area where it looked like it had been set up for dancing. There was one of those do-it-yourself parquet dance floors, and a CD player in the corner was playing the type of music I’d begun to associate with Julie–Bubble-gum pop interrupted by slow rock ballads. Another slow ballad started, a raspy voiced singer going on about his lost love.
I watched as Julie pulled him out to the dance floor. He looked reluctant, but resigned.
She pressed herself against him and they began to rock side to side. A few other couples joined them and I stepped back against the wall to let them pass.
I sighed, half watching the dancing and half staring into space.
Although I found the musical choice laughable, there was something to be said about being held in someone’s arms and moving slow. I sighed. I was becoming more and more sure that this was a mistake.
I made my way to the bathroom, with the intent of fixing my lipgloss and getting a break from the mock-80’s display on the dance floor. Stepping over a couple having what appeared to be a very intense conversation while sitting on the floor, I almost tripped and fell onto another partygoer.
“Whoa!” he said, catching me as I more or less fell into his arms.
“Thanks, ” I said, standing up straight.
“I haven’t met you before,” the man said with a smile. He held out his hand. “I’m Jim. Cousin to the birthday boy.”
I took his hand with a smile. I could see the resemblance now, between them. They each had the same seawater eyes and something about the shape of their noses. “Nice to meet you! I’m–” I was interrupted suddenly by the feel of a warm hand on my back, between my shoulderblades.
“I see you’ve met Jim.”
“Yeah, you could say we bumped into each other.” Jim snickered.
I smiled. “Where’s Julie?”
He shrugged. “The Macarena came on. I have my dignity.” Sure enough, I could see Julie and a few of her Barbie-clone friends shaking their money makers on the little dance floor.
“I’m getting another beer,” Jim said. “You guys want anything?”
I shook my head.
“Nah, we’re fine.”
Jim left and we were alone again. “I was just going to comb my hair,” I said, pointing towards the bathroom door. “I tripped and Jim caught me.”
He smiled. “C’mon.”
His hand was warm on mine and I enjoyed the shocky tingle that ran up my arm when our skin touched. He led us into the bathroom and closed the door. The music was instantly muted.
“Peace at last,” He said with a smile.
I stood there awkwardly. I wanted to touch his hands, his arms..but I didn’t know if I should, especially after watching him and Julie on the dance floor. Finally, I just opened my purse and took out my lipgloss. I faced the mirror and began to apply it.
He was standing just behind me, watching me as I applied the slick gloss to my lips. I caught his eye and he smiled. Still holding eye contact in the mirror, he reached around me and took the makeup from my hand, setting it on the edge of the sink.
I found it hard to breathe.
His left hand was on my left hip and his right hand brushed the hair off my neck. “Mmm” He said, leaning in. “You smell delicious.”
I felt him brush my hair with his face, and felt him move his head down lower. My eyes were closing with anticipation and I saw just before they closed all the way that he was leaning in to my neck. My skin cried out for the touch of his lips. I inhaled sharply, my whole body tense with desire to feel him. HIs hands were hot on my hips and I instinctively leaned back into him. His breath came closer to my neck…
My nephew got married a few weeks ago and today he sent me the digital copies of his wedding pictures.
I am amazed at both how old he and his bride are (how are they 26 and 29 already??) and yet dually amazed by how young they are (They are only 27 and 29!!).
I was 24 when R and I got married and back then I thought I was grown up. I suppose my nephew and his bride think that they are grown up as well.
As did my mother and her friends, who were all married at 18 or so.
Now of course, 15+ years into marriage, I have learned a thing or two. One very important thing:
You don’t really ever have to grow up.
Sure, you play dress up in the clothes, and you playact when out and about with others who think they are grown up too. (Or, even worse, the ones who really did grow up. That’s a sad sight.)
You can hold your job, pay your bills, have your own children. (Responsible and grown up do not mean the same thing),
But inside, where it counts, you are only as old as you allow your yourself to be.
Go to work on time, and bring home your paycheck.
But remember to have fun with it.
Look at your partner and remember that you are not looking just at today, but at all the days you’ve known each other. You can see the past, when the crow’s feet werent so pronounced, and you can see the future, as you hold hands watching the sun set.
Remember to laugh. Smile lines are not wrinkles.
And when you find joy (and you must remember to look for it in the small places!) share that joy with others.
Tell someone you love them, with the openness of a child.
Hug someone with the unselfconsciousness of youth.
Hold hands, like your mother always told you to do.
Love someone with your heart wide open.
Do these things, kids, and you won’t ever have to grow up.
The ache, the need, the desire…
I find myself nearly clawing at the air, gasping for breath until I can breathe no more.
I ache to get away, to find myself elsewhere when I awake in the morning.
I crave, I crush, I hunger, I dream…
Thoughts of great beyonds and far away horizons,
great adventures and flying through time…
I wish I want I wish
The freedoms of childhood, so far behind me now yet,
somewhere before me lying tantalizingly golden in the setting sun.
My Peter Pan has flown away,
my Superman retired his cape and my
very own personal savior has changed
into someone I think I knew once long ago,
when I was very young…
lay me in the soft grass
worship at my feet
show me the stars in your eyes, man.
and perhaps our souls shall meet.
Take me in the rain, man
Take me in the snow.
Take me in the sunshine
And make my shadows go.
Hold me in the dark night
and tighter in the day
Keep your body close to mine
to keep the dreams at bay.
And if I find you please me
and if I find you’re true
then promise that you’ll never leave
and I’ll give the same to you.
The secrets that the heart holds
and the holder of the heart
must bind like salt and water
and swear to never part.
So in the midnight hours, Man
when I scream and shake,
Find me in the shadows then
and kiss me til I wake.
I was watching a show that discussed emotional infidelity—having an ‘affair of the heart’ without necessarily moving to the physical level. The consensus was that an emotional affair is worse than a physical affair. (assuming one can split the two, of course).
They said 97% percent of the women surveyed felt that an emotional affair would likely lead to a physical affair.
Warning signs that you are entering dangerous waters include increasing your communication with this person, thinking about this person a lot, and fantasizing about that person. The experts on the panel also said that often, a person enters an emotional affair when the sex life at home has fizzled out a bit.
*
Ok
*
So, I start to thinking (always dangerous)…
What if a person is having all the physical encounters they want and need at home, but is searching for intimacy/friendship? What if the primary relationship does not lend itself to sharing secrets, joys, pains, etc?
How is it bitching to your best girlfriend different from bitching to your best guy friend?
I am one that is against ‘male bashing’ and ‘husband bashing’. I think its mean and cruel.
But I imagine that sometimes, a person has an issue they would want to talk about, or is not receiving the emotional support they need at home.
I suppose there is always therapy. But a therapist costs money, and a therapists goal is going to be to teach you to rely on yourself.
What if you just want a sympathetic ear? Is that emotional infidelity?
And what if you do fantasize about another person? Does that make you a cheater? Does it matter if its Brad Pitt vs. the sexy guy who delivers your mail? Does it matter if its a stranger or a person you’ve known your whole life?
So the summer flew by and we are facing labor day already.
::sigh…::
I cleaned out my garden this week, pulling the bits of grass and debris that took root, and trimming off the flowerheads that had seen better days. I found a rogue sunflower in the middle of it all, and realized that citronella REALLY likes to grow there.
Kind of sad, getting a garden ready for bed. There are still blooms to open of course, and my asters haven’t even started yet; but still, there is no sign of the tulips and daffodils that are sleeping beneath the warm earth, and I had to cut back my bleeding heart (finally). I left it up until the spiders that are born there every year had taken flight to their own homes.
Tank tops and shorts are soon to be replaced by fresh and crisp school clothes.
Alarms will have to be set again.
The neighborhood will be come strangely quiet at 7am, and will remain so until almost 3 pm…five days a week!
I used to look forward to this time of year when my kids were little…when I’d just about reached my limit of the bickering and bothering that brothers and sisters do.
(One year, one of the moms gave the bus driver gourmet cookies on the first day, to thank him for taking our lovely children away.)
Now however, when my life is more clearly able to be measured in seasons, I feel my own autumn beginning in my bones, and it makes it sad to see it reflected in the garden.
My hair has gone from blonde to brown, and now carries the hints of grey. Crow’s feet have settled into the corners of my eyes, and I have to tell myself “they are smile lines” more often than I used to.
Joints ache on those cool early mornings and I find myself oftentimes going to bed before my children.
Yes, autumn is coming to my garden soon.
My flowers are sprouted and grown, and ready to spread their petals to the sun.
And I am ready to remain, to root myself into the Mother Earth, to smile and nod over the newer sprouts, and to slumber under the earth when the weather becomes too chill.
After all, spring does come again..that is part of the promise.
And I will dance in Summerland with hair once again blonde.
Are any of you lucky enough to still remember your first kiss? The heart-wrenching will-he or won’t-he (or will-she or won’t-she) as you bravely looked into your partner’s eyes before taking the plunge.
That first gut-fluttering clench of excitement when you realized yes, this is it! It’s finally happening!
ahh that first kiss…
I remember my first kiss very well. I was 12 and I had my first boyfriend. We’d been ‘going out’ for a couple weeks…which is a heck of a long time in 6th grade! Anyway, the Big Moment came one day when he was visiting at my house and we’d somehow managed to sneak under my mother’s watchful radar.
The kiss itself was nothing spectacular…in fact, I wonder now if my boyfriend had been getting tutored in the art by his older brother because it was a little….sophisticated. And sloppy. And not so well-coordinated. Maybe on second thought he wasn’t being tutored…
But afterwards I was convinced, utterly and totally convinced, that it showed on my face that I’d been kissed. I thought it was stamped on my forehead in bright blue neon that Boyfriend and I had kissed.
I didn’t see skyrockets a la Brady Bunch…but I did feel different. Changed in some way.
A few years and a few boyfriends later, I figured out about the skyrockets of course. But that is a different story for a different day.
Paula Cole said it best in her plaintive, semi-angry hit several years ago.
But really, its not just the cowboys that have gone missing.
Its the heros, the prince charmings, the knights in shining armor…
Seriously.
Where’d they all go?
Swords, armor, and maces have been replaced with the tools of the modern age.
Magic mirrors and oracles have morphed into iPhones.
The trusty steed is now a 4-cylinder with great gas mileage and lots of trunk space.
And where does that leave us, the fair maidens, the modern-day princesses in peril?
Well, we fight our own battles now, conquering enemies in the boardrooms of the country while our knights are out playing golf with their buddies at lunchtime.
No longer need we rely on an outside rescuer to save us from danger. Nowadays, with tae bo and kickboxing and powerwalks…well, we can slay our own dragons, thankyouverymuch.
But still…
Wouldn’t it be fun, just once in a while, to find a prince charming ready to defend us? An occasional hero..someone to show up just when we need him and whisk us away to our very own happy ending, all the while ensuring we are home in time to get to work the next morning?
A fantasy I am sure, but one that I suspect many of us modern-day princesses hold onto in the backs of our minds.
I know I do.
Can a person love too much?
I care about people so deeply sometimes I get scared of my own feelings. Is it normal?
When I say “I love you” I damn well mean it and don’t even bother saying it back if you don’t mean it.
I crave knowing people, and I want to know every little thing about every person I know and love. I want to share details, happiness, tears, whatever…
I just love so much.
And on so many levels and all at the same time.
What about you? Is love an overpowering emotion, one that cleanses your soul and gives you a sense of well being?
Or does it mean less, or little, or nothing at all? Can you say “I love you” without meaning it?
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