I had a dream the other night
About how we only get one life
Woke me up right after two
Stayed awake and stared at you
So I wouldn’t lose my mind
And I had the week that came from hell
And yes I know that you could tell
But you’re like the net under the ledge
When I go flying off the edge
You go flying off as well
And if you only die once I wanna die with you.
Valentine’s day is just around the corner. And I’m confident it’s going to hit me hard this year.
And now, less than 20 words into writing the post I can see the hen shaking her head. “What is he going to do?”.
I’m not going to DO anything. Nor say anything to anyone, it’s just going to hit me, personally and alone. Well, not alone as in no other human beings around. Alone in the being single sense.
In fact I was thinking of writing more, right here. The things I don’t normally say, the things that run through my head when I lay in bed at night.
Extraordinary sex with the girl with no middle name. I think our sex drives were on par, unlike some other relationships I’ve been in. We had wild sex, and quiet sex, we had frequent sex. Hell we slept together after we broke up. Which years later she told me she wanted us to get back together. And for a few months after that happened I felt bad. How had I missed it, why was I so oblivious.
And then a few years after THAT I reversed that decision entirely and realised that if she wanted something from me, saying so would be the thing to do. I’m not going to be held to account because someone told me they wanted one thing, but actually wanted another. And while we’re on the topic, she didn’t hold it against me either. The conversation we had about it was definitely a “I can’t believe you never picked up on…”
Apart from sex, we were comfortable together. Which looking back on my relationships is a theme I can’t say was always repeated. We got changed together, it doesn’t seem like a big deal but it was and still stands out. And she took a bath most nights.
I still remember it fondly. She would get in the bath and yell at me from behind the door “Hey Bubba…” I’m not even sure where the nickname came from, but it was used by her constantly. And I’d go sit with her while she lay in the bath. We’d talk, discuss the day, the cat would push the shower curtain onto the water and walk on it. Sometimes she was entirely visible, sometimes there were bubbles or a curtain in the way. Beautiful and glistening, sexy and ordinary all at the same time. A normal part of the day, and a fantasy to wait on. A seemingly endless stream of incredible moments, occuring one after the other. And of course it changed.
We stopped being in the bathroom together long before we broke up. A factor or not, it should have mattered, should have stood out.
But now, there’s an occasional invasion. When I think of sitting in the bathroom with the girl with no middle name, occasionally another face edges into the peripheral. A situation separated by years but tied together. My flatmates girlfriend. Ex Girlfriend, I don’t know what she was at that point. But she also knew the girl with no middle name. So let’s see how they tie together.
I’m single, living with my flatmate and then this girl. His ex, I’m almost certain they weren’t dating anymore. But they were still close, she was living in the house too, and we were all friends. I’d known her for a few years as a friend and he’d dated her for years (but been separated for a year or so). We laughed, we flirted, we flirted a lot. It wasn’t intended to go anywhere, literally not. Not a “listen guys it’s cool trust me” kind of thing. I very literally mean it wasn’t going anywhere. She just had a lot of sexual energy and it was fun to flirt, people like to flirt.
So we live in the same house, and she had a former career as a…. actually I don’t know. I thought I did, then I didn’t. She wasn’t shy, not about sex, not about her body, not about, well anything. And so she would roam freely after a shower. Shower with the door open, shower with the bathroom door AND the shower curtain open. Which let’s face it is a sign of wanting me to see. It’s also a sign of not caring. A sign of being absent minded and forgetting to close it. And a sign of absolutely nothing.
So we flirted. And she showers one day, bathroom door open, curtain half open. I walk down the hallway, turn my head and “Yep. She’s naked” and I move on. The shower stops, and moments later she arrives in my room, wrapped in a towel, still dripping. She sits down on the bed, on my lap, no the bed. I think. She’s right there with me either way, we’re skin to skin, at least in some places. And we spoke. To this day I have no idea what about, she was talking to me, she was close, I was single and lonely and she was moving closer, I was too. And then, lips touch. It’s us, why are we kissing, what is going on here, and then it was gone. The world faded into nothingness behind us and I was alone in a tiny universe with just me and her, lips pressed together, tongues chasing, hands roaming wildly, her nails into my back, I roughly pulled her towel off, bit her neck, kissed her chest, gasps, heat, and then it stopped.
We’d stopped. It had been 30 seconds, if that and we’d stopped. And one of us said “This isn’t a good idea”. I don’t know which, and the other said “nope”. And she left the room, I think without her towel. It was the briefest of encounters, rough lips, half darkness, and one slim naked body next to mine and then it was over. I was single, so was she, we did nothing wrong by anyone. But and here’s where we get back to the girl with no middle name. Somehow the events became something else. Suddenly the mutual flirting was being recounted as me doggedly pursuing her, at one point I was told we’d slept together.
And years later, the girl with no middle name brought it up. In fact she brought it up more than once. It was very clearly an issue. And she changed the topic quickly both times. So she brings it up, gets mad, says she doesn’t care and then changes topic. So the internet, none of you involved in the story now know the truth. It was over a year after we broke up, she wasn’t talking to the girl I kissed anymore, and I kissed her the one time. Well we kissed for the one session, 30 seconds long, probably more than one kiss, and that was it.
So now I should go to bed, and probably not think about that 30 seconds in the dark, this wild passionate outpouring of the issues and chaos in each of our lives and the flirting between us in the past. A wild passionate mistake.
It’s not like I had a dream last night about the girl with no middle name. Nope. Didn’t run my hands through her hair, see her stepping out of her car in the coat I bought her, soft curves in the dark, laughing in the bathroom as she hides behind bubbles.
You know what, fuck you Valentine’s Day. I’m going to mentally step through this shit for the next week and a half.
Frozen? – Seen it and been singing the songs for 3 weeks.
Huge storm taking out power yesterday? Saw it coming and charged everything in the house.
Having someone years later get mad because she thinks I slept with someone else – did not see it coming.