Slightly overdue…
My Fourth Love

She said she was floored by me from the first time she saw me. It was a staff meeting, she was new. I was leading the meeting… and apparently I was wired that day, which means I was much more Steve Balmier than Sheryl Sandberg. We quickly became friends, but it was a close group, and almost everyone there was. It was a large restaurant, we worked long shifts, no one slept normal hours. Our nights out were regular and they started at 1 am. She was straight when I meet her.

The first time I saw her naked we were jumping into a pool occupied by my sometimes boyfriend and my boss (who was in from out of town, and very much a fan of hers). We three were completely useless that night, she took our collective breath away. I’d tell you what movie star she was built like, but I honestly can’t think of one as perfect. Think of a swim suit model who can run marathons, beat me in tennis, and do a hundred lunges in a row. With an ass and breasts that were perfectly, exquisitely, round and full. I never was able to control myself when I was near her. I thought I would develop some immunity over time, but I never did. She made me absolutely crazy with lust. Half the time I felt overcome by a wild beast that wanted always to consume her, to have every essence, fluid, piece of her tasted and devoured and dripping from my mouth, splattered across my face and body. I had not known this part of myself in this way before her. I was young and strong with boundless energy, she made me feel raw and desperate. I was insatiable with her, always hungry for her. I bought her expensive hand-made, leather corsets that I couldn’t afford. Items she didn’t even want… was too modest to enjoy wearing out, but I’d see them and not be able to stop myself, so I would insist, cajole, tease… anything to walk into the clubs with her on my arm dressed like that.

The first moment I realized we would become a couple, we were in the backseat of a car coming home from a long night out of clubing. I had my shoes off, she lifted my legs and pulled my feet into her lap. We looked at each other so openly, so intently for the longest time, and I knew… knew she would own my heart, knew I would turn my world inside out for her, knew it would be incredible.

The first time we made love, I was put on alert in advance that it was going to happen. The day before, she whispered in my ear during a shift, ‘you should pack a toothbrush for tomorrow’. That is still one of my favorite all time lines to this day. Afterward, lying in my arms she said sincerely, ‘Let’s move to New York City’. With tears still rimming my eyes and drying on my cheeks, I smiled and said gently, “Love, we’d have no jobs”. She said, “I need this, I need to go back”. I said, “Okay, we’ll go” and began kissing her all over again.

I remember everything about our crappy little apartment. How we filled it with everything we loved, her photos and my paintings were everywhere. But there were other things too. A silly little chair that we found and painted bright green. Strange assortments of dried flowers. Dramatic curtains. Too many God’s eyes, she loved those things. A set of matched wooden candle sticks. They were the first household purchase that we made together. We split the set when we broke up… we both still have ours.

I remember the couch we re-upholstered by stapling a thick piece of purple material over it. Often, when she got home, I’d be in the living room painting furiously. She’d grab her dinner and a glass of wine and sit on that couch watching me. I’d work till my thought was finished then wash my brushes, return to the room and kneel at her feet. I’d put my head in her lap as I stared back at the canvas. She’d finish her wine and tell me about her day. Soon I’d be stroking her legs, then hips, until I finally lifted my head up to meet her bright blue eyes. My hands would slide round her waist and her smile would start beaming. She’d always have some new reason for why she loved me so much to tell me about. I wish I could say I would then pick her up and carry her into the room, but that wouldn’t be true. I did however fuck her feverishly almost every night.

I played on a travel team back then. The team was so good when we played; won two regional championships and one national. Bad when we weren’t. I remember her saying things to me like, ‘I don’t want them in the apartment, so don’t go bringing everyone up’ when I’d call from the pub… or, ‘at least try to behave’ when I was walking out the door travel bag in hand. I’d get the most wry smile on my face. It made me feel like a pirate when she said these types of things to me. I’d always grab her and kiss her brutishly when she did it.

I remember walking home one day, I felt ethereal, weightless. I was carrying a bottle of wine for her, again more expensive than I could afford, and there was this moment. One I shall never forget. I remember thinking, this is the happiest I have ever been… this is the happiest it is possible to be.