A loving and nurturing relationship

A love that is shared unconditionally. A love that is neither stifling nor suffocating. It is the energy that flows between the two of us, circling our being, our essence. It is this love that is translated in our routine, our day-to-day activities. I make sure you have a towel inside the bathroom because you always forget to bring one. You put one tablespoon of sugar in my oatmeal and two tablespoonful of powdered milk because this is how I like it. You confiscate my cigarettes but leave the lighter lying around because you know I lose it all the time. I buy you hair wax because you don’t like gel. We compliment each other. We fit, effortlessly.

We grow in the relationship. You nag me to focus on the cases I’m handling. But, at the same time, indulge my idiosyncrasies. You buy art paper for my paintings. You recently gave me a new yoga mat. You accompany me to the store to buy new rock shoes for wall climbing. I nag you for being so focused. I surprise you by visiting you at the office. I bring you to exotic restaurants knowing fully well that you’ll order the safest viand on the menu: chicken. I secretly send your poems to a magazine and surprise you when it gets published.

Have we forgotten how we met? Of course not! We recall it with immense delight. Two lost, insecure souls in a sea of equally lost and insecure souls. Both type “A” personalities, assertive, articulate, assholes. We matched each other’s wit in the ensuing verbal swords play. Our intellectual masturbation was heightened by our physical attraction to each other. We wanted each other so badly but we waited. Not on the first date, the first meeting. We wanted to be friends first, knowing fully well that friendship is the bedrock for any relationship. We’re tired of the game though we’re both players. It seemed that the one-liners, the repartee that comes before a casual encounter is lost in our firs meeting. This is serious.

The first date was followed by dinner, then coffee, then a movie. Always filled with substantial exchanges. We talked about politics, God, relationships, and how Bananarama contributed to defining the 80s. Our desire for each other’s bodies was exceeded by our fear of diminishing the moment. We were afraid to fall in love, to wear our hearts on our sleeves. But we yearn for each other’s embrace, each other’s kisses. We’ve had our fair share of men. We’ve both been burned by love. We were willing to wait.

I don’t recall the exact date and time when I realized that I was in love with you. All I remember is that we were walking, after dinner or a movie. You were raving about the plot of the movie we just saw. “Riveting”, you said. I nonchalantly disagreed with your assessment. You stopped walking and stared at me in disbelief. “How could you not appreciate the intricate presentation of human emotions in the movie?” you queried. I smiled teasingly and said, “Gotcha.” You put your arms around me and said, “Bitch.” As you held me tightly, I began to hear a soft whisper from my heart, “I’m in love with you.” I didn’t know what to say, my mouth had no words to say this to you. Regardless of this disability, I love you. When I finally mustered enough courage to admit my love for you, you just said, “What took you so long? I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you.” I was surprised, stunned, floored. And before I can utter my witty comeback, you grinned and said “And I thought you were smart.”

Bitch.

We never had sex. We made love. Passionate, sensual, attentive. Our nakedness surpassed the things that our hands can touch. Our hearts were bare, vulnerable. Our union exquisite. It was not a matter of thought but a dance, movement of hands, lips, eyes, and words. The physical pleasure overshadowed by the overwhelming truth that we are making love. And as our passion burst amidst the sweat and moans, we softly kiss each other and smile. I close my eyes and feel your fingers running down my face. “Why are you trying to memorize my face?” I asked.

“So that even when I close my eyes, I would still be able to see you.”

We have our problems, that is certain. Our insecurities would surface once in a while. Unanswered phone calls. Unexplained absences. Why did it take so long before I met your friends? I don’t want to meet your past relations posing as buddies. You were suspicious of me. You never confronted me about my liaisons. I never had sex with other guys. We would talk about it. In my absence, in your silence, our eyes would meet, we would understand each other. As we lie next to each other, we forgive each other’s transgressions, plant sweet kisses, and sleep in each other’s embrace knowing that we would see each other in our dreams.

It seems that the long wait is over. You found me. I found you. Julia Fordham was right, love moves in mysterious ways.

Goodbye

My throat is sore. Probably from all the chocolates I ate last night. Probably from belting songs by the Carpenters. Probably from the cigarettes I've been smoking since I last saw you. You need time to think. You need your space. I'm giving you time. I'm giving you your precious space. Karen was right. It's better to say goodbye to love.

I'll say goodbye to love
No, never cared if I should live or die
Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by
And all I know of love is how to live without it
I just can't seem to find

So I've made my mind up I must live my life alone
No, it's not the easy way but I guess I've always known

I'll say goodby to love
Knowing there's no tomorrow for this heart of mine
Surely time will lose this bitter memories
And I'll find that there is someone
To believe in and to live for
Someone I could live for

All the years of useless searching finally reached an end
Loneliness and empty days will be my only friend
On this day love is forgotten
I'll go on as best I can

You Anchor Me

Why am I attracted to you? Is it your salt-and-pepper hair, coy smile, the confidence you exude, the nonchalance by which you meet my advances? You’re older, I know. You look at me and you see a player. Indeed, I am. Or rather, I used to be. I know all the tricks, all the lines, where to put my hands, when to speak, when to shut up. And yet, such games have lost their appeal. Their charm has faded with time.

Am I in love with you? I don’t know. But I want to find out. It may seem to you that time is passing you by. Precisely the reason why you’re looking for someone who will settle down with you. Are you afraid to gamble? To risk your precious time in something that is uncertain? But what is certain in life? Death and taxes. Change.

Time spent with someone is better than time spent alone. It may not work, it is a possibility. However, by the time you’re sixty, I’ll be fifty. And I’d still be holding your hand. I’d steal kisses whenever no one is looking. You’d sleep wrapped around my arms. I’ll be the last person you see before you sleep. And you’ll be the first person I’ll see when I wake up. Growing old doesn’t seem bad after all.

We are dancing. We know the steps. I pursue you, you withdraw. I do not yield and you leave some space to keep me going. You pursue me, I am flattered. You ask for assurance, I smile.

So this is love. Or maybe falling in love. I feel so out of my skin, out of my comfort zone. I feel like a kite being swayed by the wind, lost in the sky but hoping that a tug would pull me back. You make me feel uncertain. This is all new to me. My mind cannot keep up. For once, my heart is taking the lead. Your smile arrests my restlessness. Your glance pierces my soul. Your voice stirs my slumbering soul. I am consumed by you, by the thought of you.

And yet you keep your silence.

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines

by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is shattered
And blue stars shiver in the distance'.

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved him, and sometimes he loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held him in my arms.
I kissed him over and over again under the endless sky.

He loved me, sometimes I did love him too.
How could I not have loved his great eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have him. To feel that I have lost him.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without him.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter if my love could not keep him.
The night is shattered and he is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied because it has lost him.

My sight searches for him as though to go to him.
My heart looks for him, and he is no longer with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We both of that time are no longer the same.

I no longer love him, that's true, but how much I have loved him.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch his hearing.

Another’s. He will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
His voice, his bright body. His infinite eyes.

I no longer love him, that’s true, but maybe I do love him.
Love is so short and forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held him in my arms
My soul is not satisfied because it has lost him.

Though this is the last pain that he makes me suffer
And these the last verses I do write for him.

(Changes in the pronouns were mine)