Monday, December 03, 2007

Throw up

Pretty much none of you should read this. Especially anyone related to me. Nothing about this post is good or right or should be public.

I've had this memory weighing on my mind for weeks now, and I just feel like I have to GET IT OUT. No clue why. Quite sure it's too personal to talk about and makes me way too vulnerable and may hurt other people in my life. But I'm ruminating on it, and I've got to stop the cycle before I go mad.

I had this Before Sunrise experience months ago, and it was the impetus for this huge growth journey I've been on; studying men and dating, stepping out of my comfort range, admitting that keeping my dating experience low until I meet my man is a failing strategy.

In many ways, it caused The Commune to happen. If I hadn't been so out of my mind with pain and failure at effing up a good thing because I didn't have the right dating technology, I wouldn't have pushed myself into making the movie NOW, and I wouldn't have had the incredibly loving relationship between the two leads right, or a break-up scene I lifted word for word that had all the women and some of the men on the set crying.

Ha. Funny enough, I wouldn't have had The Elevator Scene, which my crew found so far-fetched.

So...before I get to the memory, let me just say publicly, anonymously, as if I was burning a letter in the fire:

Thank you. Thank you for seeing me. I needed someone brave and strong to see me, and to claim me, and to wrap me in his arms with enough stength that I believed everything would be okay. I appreciate all you did for me, the way you treated me like your queen; from pulling out my chair, to dressing up for me in your sharp shoes and natty clothes, to thinking about what would please me, to looking into my eyes all night with your beautiful wise sparkly soul, to listening to me on the edge of your seat for four hours at that French restaurant with singular focus (and two hours at the rooftop bar before!), to sharing your dreams and purpose with me and envisioning a better world because of your impact.

You were my hero from the moment I stepped into that elevator. I don't think my eyes could have left your calmness and confidence and respect if they'd tried. You wouldn't have allowed me to run away from us.

I needed to believe in love again and to be rescued from my numbness and pain; you were strong enough to save me from myself. I respect your depth of character, who you are in this world, your authenticity, opinions, choices. The possibility of love you showed me...I will strive for and have some day every day with my husband. I honor the sacred, the sublime, the delightful space that the two of us created in synergy, and that you were generous enough to name outloud with your beautiful words. And I will trust that men can be overflowing with tenderness and love and emotion and kindness and lips that never leave my body all night if I can just be brave enough to receive them and let them be men.

I apologize for my uncommunicated expectations and hopes and dreams, and accept you for who you are and the time we had together.

Thank you for making me a better woman. Goodbye my love. You've changed my life and made me happy. You mattered.


Leaving the French restaurant, giddy from your intellect and the smell of you and the way you look at me and your towering heighth that makes me feel so feminine and protected. The uncanny resemblence to Mr. Tumnus and the unshakeable knowledge that mom has sent you to me. I wonder how much younger you are. Probably thirty? We never got to the usual chit chat; our conversation so much deeper. Raw.

Walking down the street to your car, feeling you beside me wanting to hold my hand, uncharacteristically unsure. At last you reach out and brush my fingers, then confidently hold my hand in yours. I feel your energy shoot up my arm, and I feel safe with you. I'd let you lead me anywhere. But you steer me to the passenger door of your adorable twenty-five-year-old environmentally friendly Honda, take my face gently in yours and give me the longest, lightest, best kiss of my life like we have all the time in the world. Wrap me in your arms and whisper-moan against my lips with such sincerity and hope and need the concrete drops out from under me..."Come home with me."


And you took me home, and welcomed me into your artistic kingdom. Don't know how we got there or how you drove, your lips and eyes on mine like a magnet, open-mouthed and hungry with just a teasing hint of tongue, my legs pretzled around yours, already writhing for you. The gear shift a constant annoyance. My hand on your Stag King belt buckle (another Fishie from Mom). It's alright. It's safe to let you love me.

Exhausted, tangled in your manly plaid sheets, the full moon beating down on us through the open window. Dawn encroaching on our time together. I've dozed off somehow at some point, don't know when you stopped kissing my body. Never had a man never stop pleasing me, but you came ferociously then encirlced me again with your hands and your lips within seconds, my pleasure seamless until you join me again, collapsing into me, resting momentarily until your amazing fingers find me again, my screams and sobs against your chest muffled, uncontrollable. Your supreme pleasure in pleasuring me the biggest gift to my wounded psyche, infusing me with confidence long dormant.

The Memory

Somehow I've slept soundly, fearlessly with you, this stranger/soulmate. I'm laying on my default left side, my arms curved slighlty above my head as they do when I'm happy.

But there you are, movie-star-handsome head resting on my arm like a pillow, soul patch grazing the delicate inside skin. Peaceful. Trusting. Vulnerable. Present. You've stirred, embarrassed you relaxed enough to drool on me. Unseen, I watch you, my heart fluttering with the wings of thousand birds, a tear trapped in the corner of my eye. You're trying to clean my arm without waking me, touching me tenderly with the same respect and awe and worshipful long strokes used to clean your cum from my stomach and breasts an hour earlier.

Your kind, endless eyes meet mine and I smile into them: It's okay my love. Lay in my arms a while longer and let go. You are safe.

1 comment:

Heidi said...

wow. beautiful.