My Second Love –

I was 21, in grad school, 6% body fat, and poor as a church mouse. I lived in a rented room in an apartment with three girls. I had a mattress and a stack of books in my room. Some clothes in the closet, not much else. I worked in a lab 9 to 5 part paid, part sponsorship doing research for my thesis. I took classes from 6 to 8 or 10PM, M-F depending on the night. I lived mostly on boiled eggs, apples, peanut butter, and ramen and never did a day go by I didn’t make it to the gym.

He was 36, he had a house with furniture and a shelf stocked with cereal in the kitchen. I ate a whole box every time I was there. He made fun of me, gave me a hard time about it, but always kept it stocked. We teased each other mercilessly, both of us fanatics, compulsively, obsessively competitive. I remember crying on the hack squat machine when he wouldn’t let me stop doing reps… but the truth is, it was always easy between us. We played the same way, our needs were simple and our motives straightforward. We rarely talked about it, but we knew where we stood. In my life, he was the first person who the whole time he knew me, never missed a single one of my games… attended home and away, always made the choice to be there, I never had to ask.

He was a nudist. Saturday mornings we woke up at 4AM to be on the beach by 6. Walk two miles down, set up camp, then surf till the tide stopped. We’d eat breakfast together, often quietly watching the sky, smelling the salt, listening to the surf. Then he’d walk back to join the main group of nudists. I’d stay with my books and my homework. Around noon he’d send someone for me. A lovely with a new piercing above her clit that she wanted to show me. A sport who wanted to discuss volleyball strategy. A couple he’d primed to tease me about my cute butt. They’d step between me and my books, rouse me and walk me back to have lunch with the group. Then volleyball. I’d play till no one else would, three or four hours. First sixes, then fours, and finally twos… as others dropped off to start drinking or flirting or carousing. If there wasn’t a party that night, it would then be time to go back, pack up, and head home. Once there, unpack, shower together each washing the other, sex, then back to studying.

Sundays were our day. Either he’d have something on his mind… and we’d spend the day doing whatever it was (things like shaving each others whole body, cumming in every room in the house, or making a porn movie) Or he wouldn’t and we’d square off in a game of one on one. This meant jet skis, basketball, soccer, racquetball, or tennis most of the time. These were full out wars that left us both battered. Once playing soccer, I made a move, he got tangled and tripped himself, I sprinted with the ball for the goal. He pursued and tackled me football style full out. We both slammed into the ground and skid. I said it counts as a goal, he said it didn’t. I was furious and refused to ride home in the car with him (it took me an hour and a half to walk it). When I got home I was exhausted and dehydrated, I drank one glass of water before fucked savagely. Sunday dinner, we always went out. Regular places, chain restaurants, but we were always starving and it felt like a banquet, a privilege. These dinners were often the only time all week I sat at a table to eat or had food that had taken more than five minutes to prepare. At the end we were always in a great mood, it was the only time we would wax romantic.

He loved me. Every now and again I would be struck by the realization. I was so young and inexperienced. It used to confuse me. Funny how when we love, we believe our love to be eternal, complete, indestructible, pure of motive. But when someone loves us, we reject assignment of the same attributes to their love. Or maybe you don’t? How fully do you feel it? How completely do you let yourself be rolled by it? How well can you deflect insecurity? Jealousy? Frustrations? Do you free fall into it? Risk anything? Give everything? Hold back nothing? Do you let yourself be utterly defenseless, transparent, laid open… vulnerable? Have you found for yourself what lies on the other side of experiencing love with all of these attributes, in tact, flowing freely in both directions? Have you had the commitment to maintain it? Trusted enough?