All this talk about magical moments… found myself reminiscing during my run, ended up writing this

My Fifth Love –

The first time I saw him, it was like looking through a magic window that didn’t exist to anyone else but us. We looked at each other laid bare, from the first; as if every want, need, struggle, raw emotion we’d ever had was known. I couldn’t stop looking at him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop reacting to him… then or anytime in the next five years.

We spoke after class. He had extraordinary presence, the kind that makes time stand still. Everything about him invaded me, emptied me, became me, the way water moves from one space to fill another when the barrier between the two has been removed.

I was not the person then, that I am now. After he and I parted, I re-grouped. I re-formed, and I went to the next class with thick, exterior walls firmly in place. Nothing had changed about him, and he was unaffected by the change in me. We were partnered for the class, I held myself rigidly, resisting the inexplicable pull… it felt like my bones would crack from the effort of it. He was so fluid, so natural, relaxed, and sure. I continued to run from him, but somehow, and seemingly without effort, he manged it so that I was never far from him. We started spending a lot of time together. Long afternoons, hours and hours a day in parks, quirky neighborhoods, or different cafes with two lattes and some small, sweet delicacy. We talked about sex and sexuality, but it was just one small part of a much larger conversation of discovery. We never touched more than any two platonic close friends would touch, but our focus on one another was absolutely penetrating. We could read each other on sight. Nothing went unsaid. No part of our lives or our selves hidden from the other. I’d never seen or heard or touched anyone like him in all my life… never been more fascinated. I started to see the world in a different way. My heart grew three sizes every time I was near him. This went on for four months.

During one of my stronger surges of denial and resistance, I set him up with one of my friends to try and put more space between us. Told her he was amazing, she’d be crazy not to go for it. Of course, she asked why I wasn’t. Somehow, I managed to convince her he and I would never have that type of attraction. This was such strange behavior for me, I don’t play games, I plunge headlong into my emotions. I was just completely unable to process or face what was going on. He went along with my request to accept the blind date; amused, nonplussed. After the first date, she told me dreamy eyed, I was right, he was amazing. After the second date, she asked me what was I doing. Said he was clearly into me. I said, ‘What?! No… Did he actually say he was into me?” She said no he didn’t, but it was obvious, and what was wrong with me, I was being a fool. So of course, I set him up with another friend. Almost the exact same result.

Not long after that, I invited him to a party in my loft. Invited the whole class and half the gym, as well, just to ensure it didn’t look like I was targeting him. As it grew late, I still had barely spoken to him. Had kept myself practically maniac all night with dancing, serving, teasing, and entertaining. He was standing in an intimate group near the kitchen, as I came rushing by. He reached out and caught my arm. I was moving so fast, both our arms quickly extended, before I felt the tug that jerked me around. He was a large man (6’4″), the action didn’t even jostle him. He was standing there completely composed. He said nothing, just smiled the most debonair smile I had ever seen as I stared back at him. Then he slowly reeled me in, and tucked me into him… and there I stayed, even as the party wrapped and we told everyone good night. It was as if I had always been there and would always be there, a part of him. I felt calm. I felt home.

When everyone was gone. We went into the bedroom and made slow, sweet love, then he went home. By this time we were already seeing each other close to everyday. When we next got together, he remained the same as he always had been. I however, slowly started to loose my mind, because every second near him was an unbearable tease, and increasingly every cell in my body was aching for him to touch me… no, for him to take me again. I was a quivering, frantic mess, and for some reason completely incapable of making any advance on him. It was for me, very strange not to and yet simply unthinkable. Then I caught an incredible break. A friend offered me their country house for the weekend. Now normally, I would have been on the phone immediately, to invite 6 – 8 delicious, lesbians who were well known to dress scantily, out to party all weekend, so inviting just him was a dramatic play for me, and a clear sign of how enthralled and utterly desperate I had become. I was bemoaning to all my friends rather pathetically, that I didn’t know how I could survive another day without fucking him again.

First day in the country seemed to go perfectly. It was incredible to be near him in this new setting. We talked into the wee hours of the night, and I was sure this would be it, but just when I was seconds from tearing my own clothes off, crazy with need, he stood up and bid me good night. I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. I was raging. I was frustrated and hurt and angry enough to tear the place apart. Next morning, I stumbled out despondent. We came to that same moment again the next night. This time he slowly leaned in until our lips touched. My heart stopped. Our mouths continued to move. Lips parted. Tongues explored. My brain stopped. He pulled me into his body. I would say, all of who I had been up until that point died that night, and a new creature was born… a creature that was for a time, without exception his.