I gazed into his deep brown eyes. His naked, caramel skinned hand caressed my cheek as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful you have no idea in my ear. Our lips touched. He went lower on the bed, as if he were worshipping a Hindu goddess, and reverently kissed my ******, treating it like a flower that was just beginning to open. My heart soared.
It was my turn. I put my mouth around his *****, sucking gently as he moaned and moaned and moaned with pleasure.
I wasn’t sure what I had just done. I walked downstairs to go pee. We had been watching a movie containing some explicit yoga poses and I had said that it looked uncomfortable. He had remarked that I didn’t know that since I didn’t have a *****…he hoped…
And, after this rude comment, we had made out and I had made love with him. I remember his abdominals being hard as a rock, his arms with just enough muscle, the reverence he showed as we made love. He sang love song after love song on my dad’s bluegrass guitar. Our lips touched as our hearts intertwined, and I felt as if I was walking on air.
One night, after a session of lovemaking, I remember sneaking a peak onto his iPad. It was from his best female friend. She said something along the lines of, “It’s your dirty princess who needs you right now. Just kidding. Wrong person.”
My heart sunk. As we went to town to enjoy our visit, I remember seeing her on his GPS. He had her picture there constantly. It was almost like he was waiting for her to call him. But those eyes. I’d known him for five years, albeit online, but still, and he would never make love to me if he didn’t mean it, would he? We had kept in touch forever, forever as in five years.
“I have found the perfect woman!” He announced as we went for a walk.
My heart was resurrected and I suddenly believed him. He must be telling the truth. There is no way there can be more than one perfect woman. I don’t know what is true and what is not. I do know he has a best friend he texted constantly. I do know he made love to me in the sweetest, most nurturing way anyone ever has, and I know I got upset with him for leaving me and breaking my heart to travel the world with his best female friend, and saying he may never see me again, because he doesn’t seem to think it’s important enough between all of his career goals. I do know I miss him sometimes, so much I wish I had chased him around the world, even though I guess that would scare a guy off. I know he was good. Really good. And, maybe, good with all of those other friends he has. I know I was deeply touched, and deeply broken, and, mostly, I want to be loved again, but I don’t want to be loved merely as one in a long sequence of love affairs. I want a love affair with so much passion it lasts forever.