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.
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