Confused

You want me, but on your own terms. I can't have you on mine. You want me, but at a distance. You keep me at arms length, but won't let go. You were threatened last night, when I told you I felt different, that something had changed. But you're not ready for this to end. You said you were happy with how things are. I tried to resist sleeping with you. But I didn't put much of an effort. You were smug, afterwards. Yes, we still have it. There will always be sexual attraction. But it doesn't feel as intense. Because I feel different. We will have a month together, sharing the same space. I don't know what will happen then. Maybe it will be a time of transition, after which we will be ready to go our separate ways.

Love on a Sunday

We spoke for three hours yesterday. I hadn't realised it took us that long to muddle through. Well, there was that thirty minute pause to make love. It was the most adult thing I had ever done in a romantic relationship. To muddle through, together. We haven't reached a solution. And if I were to play cost-benefit analysis I am at the losing end of this, however one may look at it. I woke up at 3AM thinking exactly that. We are supposed to go on a break this week - where you figure out whether you could live your life without me. If you could, then you said you would appeal to my greater self for us to remain friends. If you could not, then we would maintain the status quo - a relationship for all intents and purposes, but without any guarantees. I rebelled at the thought, laying there on your couch - looking out at the orange-lit harbour. I felt a need to open the window, to look out, to feel the wind on my face. You woke up, sensing my absence. Asking me what I was doing. I wanted for you to come get me - and you did. You always do. And as we lay back on your bed, I look at you and your little-boy face, restful. I knew than that I loved you. And for the first time in my life, I was at peace with the thought of simply giving, without condition, wanting and expecting nothing in return. I thought then that I loved you and that I wanted you to live.

And then I thought about how you held me on your couch, your gentle voice. I thought about how you reheated me dinner and served me on a plate. The countless times you put your arms around me. How you put on the AC and the blanket on me as I fell asleep. The first time you did that - the first time I slept over. How your head would lean into my hand when I stroked your hair or face. How you sat there looking over reports while I picked dandruff scales from your scalp. I lay there looking at you, snoring. I thought then that I loved you, no matter what. So this week you will figure out your stuff. And I will finish my thesis. And I shall see you on Sunday.

Another Impasse

We may be pushing each other's limits. For now, a reprieve. I may go home after all of this is done. There is no reason for me to stay. I do not think he will stop me. I am a temporary shelter in his storm. Once it eases up, he should be able to move in. I am sad and this is delaying the inevitable. I will finish my thesis, and perhaps, be finished with him.

Public/Private Beings

- From Anti-Social Family, Michele Barrett and Mary McIntosh

Been thinking about this, after a conversation with D, who says he has to put on a different persona at work. Asshole in the office, puppydog at home. Why can't we all be puppydogs regardless of the space we inhabit? Why do we have to be cutthroat at work? Why must we expect to have our emotional needs met only in the privacy of our homes?

Peas in a Pod

Why did you call, you fucker? Despite the communications embargo? Disturbing my equilibrium. Rational? Logical? You're no more rational nor logical than me. We're exactly alike, you and I. Something urgent, you said. I thought it was some emergency. But you called just to say you now know what I meant last night and that you miss me. Fuck you, asshole. And I love you.