The late morning sun poured into the window of his modest apartment. It was far too early in the day to ask for a glass of wine, but I asked for one anyway. I had already began my quest for quiet drunkenness hours before, calming myself into motion. At times I become so anxious, wound up tight like a fisherman’s line under the weight of a large, cold fish. I know that this kind of nervous energy paralyzes me, unless I can tone it down some, so that is what I do. Meeting someone new, a total stranger, having sex with that person, it does not really matter, it’s not about that. I mean, that is not the reason for my anxiety. Nor for my drinking. The repetition of these brief interludes is becoming rather addictive as well. It is terrifying to me and so far, I can’t say that it is making me any happier, but then again it isn’t making me any unhappier either.
He poured me a glass of wine. His strong arm lightly touched my body as he handed it to me. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, nearly turquoise. I liked his smile, warm and slightly melancholic. This underlying sadness in him made me think about the fact that probably most people who indulge in this kind of sexual behavior, random, multiplying partners whose names will most likely be forgotten…they, like me, are searching for something, or perhaps searching to avoid something.
I’ve decided to call this chapter of my life, “I Refuse To Be Fucking Disappointed Ever Again,” and so far, I have not been disappointed. Ok, maybe a little bit. Not physically at any rate. There is a certain freedom in expecting nothing from another human being. When I think about it, I have always strived to be free of expectations so really, I am following my path of origin, except that before, I always ended up wanting more. A deeper connection, a bond, a promise…love, maybe. Now I’m thinking that the desire for commitment, ownership, whatever, is natural but deep down, I don’t believe that we, flawed human beings, are capable of it. Maybe for a day or a year or ten years but asking someone for forever is a hoax. A sham. We are in constant mutation, we cannot even offer ourselves forever.
To love someone for an afternoon, to share myself completely during the course of an evening, this I know I am capable of. I loved his weight on top of me, his hands exploring me, being filled with him. When it seemed to be time to part, I got dressed, rounded up my affaires, brushed my hair. We kissed, a lengthy goodbye kiss which ignited the fire all over again…clothing flying, bodies pulsating. Sex is cheap, or so they say, but for me I see no way of being any closer to another human being. Sometimes loving someone for a few hours is as beautiful as loving someone for a lifetime. In a few hours, you have far less time to be disappointed.