The End in the Beginning – PG

make out 3Letter to you,

One thing I am sure of is that I want to show this writing to you; but know that its effect will be held to my validation, never knowing if you actually read it.  The closure that I assume you are seeking is certain; there is no logical reason for me to continue to knock.  But doing nothing is SO not my style. I am a doer and I always have been.  I believe we make our own destiny.  I am certain that by now your interest in what I have to say has diminished to something obscure.  Nonetheless, knowing that your decision to read on does not change my expectations of tomorrow, I hope you are so enticed.  If you read it to hear the poetic tempo, or find the irony or just to indulge me; I will make-believe that you did and hold appreciation for the favor.

Sometimes I misjudge and make mistakes, and just get people wrong – including you; with no presumption that I know you or have anything about you figured out; au contraire.  Where we might have been going was never exposed, but now there is the single destination that we share, a failed chance.  We were propelled to the end, the end of something.

The evolution of that last evening moved from engaging conversation to mutual arousal with the mere presence of each other. Little things you did and said were familiar.  Our physicality changed as we began slight touches as we talked.  My luminous imagination was at raging, and propelled to design a myriad of possibilities.  So for the moment, we spent the location and needed to move on. Enticed by the possibilities of time without measure, we catapulted toward what was next.

There was so much unknown, novel and to be discovered about each other.  The conflict of charge and attraction was coupled with hesitation and over thinking and on my part.  So while I was enamored with just your words, I was also trying to focus on maintaining a coy virtuous.

Then, you leaned over, no more hesitation and kissed me.  From the second I felt your breath and smelled your hair and let my hands linger, making mental etchings of how you felt – I was intoxicated.   I remember the pauses, to catch another breath.  It was crazy stuff, a great rendition of passion.  I very simply, wanted you – but I knew it wasn’t meant to be.

Relaxing my breath, I pulled back and sent an impish laugh out loud.  As I glanced at you then, I saw the reflection of something grand, though I’m not sure exactly what it mirrored.  I didn’t know what to say – and saying nothing was worse.  How do you take back not saying the right thing?   Then the moment opened up like a huge chasm, awkwardly waiting for ‘see you later’ or ‘talk to you tomorrow’ to be inserted.  But neither one of us said anything about what was next.  I wanted to say it and more, but no words spilled from my throat.

My drive home was filled with trepidation in talking to you again.  I was happy to have spent another evening with you though there was much left undone and it felt clumsy.  I hoped we could talk and just laugh about being impetuous.  But of course, that never happened.  Another opportunity to talk was when my plans for Sunday were cancelled.  My first thought was to reach out to you, to find you unavailable, another strike tallied.

Then, a few days later, I was focused on initiating something poignant – a text; a feeble attempt anticipating it would fall short of passion and revolution.   Your reply was passive and sad.  How did you mistake anything that I did as not being interested in you?  Did I lose sleep over you . . . maybe – but not for worry or disdain.  You implied that I must have thought you weren’t inspiring enough? WHAT?  I tried to rebut with evidence of that inspiration and where thoughts of you had taken me.  I took your next comment of, “I’m intrigued” as though you were listening.   But, instead another strike for me was on the board.  I couldn’t read your thoughts, or anticipate what had happened.  I was frustrated, abandoned and rethought everything, over and over.  I’d been callous, forward, not attentive, rude, or just not very interesting?  Everything I contrived could at best be only a guess.

What I do know is that I did not witness any point that night that was definitive enough for either of us to suddenly determine that we were far better off to never speak again.  You’ve confirmed there is no chance of reconsideration.  I’ve talked to myself about this enough; I made up some unflattering reasons that give me closure.  You solely own the ability and prerogative to reciprocate communication.  I now that where I am now is the SAME place I started going before I met you.  I just now go with eyes wide open and acutely aware that there is cause and there is consequence and remind myself that sometimes DATING IS JUST REALLY CRAPPY!

drive away 1

About cute2kiss

Purveyor of unbaked prose

Posted on September 16, 2013, in Kisses (explicit content), Lessons in Dating, Men and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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