The struggles of love
We had spent the entire day lying around the house in our pajamas. We had just been hanging out, watching movies, cooking food and playing games. It was snowing. The sky had turned from a creamsicle orange and pink to black within the hour of five o’clock. We hadn’t eaten dinner as we had been snacking on goodies all afternoon. We lounged in each other’s arms on the stiff couch and discussed what plans the evening held for us; we could watch more movies, we could continue to bask into each other’s energy and meld into one, or we could get off our butts and do something…
We decided to take a hot shower to steam away the restless afternoon. The shower quickly turned from clean to dirty. We needed to be close to each other, we couldn’t resist the nakedness of each other’s warm and wet bodies.
He kissed me lightly while I shampooed my hair, but would only stop to let me rinse it out. I giggled and smiled at his resistance to the reason for the shower (which was to wash and be clean) just in time for him to push his tongue into my mouth and push his body into mine. We both ended up forgetting the purpose of the shower and let our bodies talk and become one once again.
We put on new pajamas and decided to have a drink! It was my week off and I needed some tequila to celebrate my last few hard weeks. We drank shots, ate more goodies and laughed in our small kitchen.
We decided we were hungry after all. We got dressed up; laughing and talking during the time it took us to get ready and finally walked out into the brisk night. On our way to our favourite hipster pub we walked hand in hand with the newly fallen snow crunching beneath our boots.
He wore a tuque that covered his head perfectly. His jacket was warm and he walked effortlessly, with ease, as if there was nothing to worry about in that instant. He always walked a bit faster than me, and tonight was no exception. I quickened my pace to match his for the last block and we hurried into the bar to escape the cold.
We chose the booth and ordered our favourite beer. Next we decided on food that we would share with one another. He was always so adventurous, especially with food. He liked to try a new meal each time. I was the opposite, I had only ever had the same old veggie burger and fries each and every time. He decided to go with jalapeño mac ’n’ cheese. We drank our beers effortlessly and shared a quiet moment.
I looked out the window in our booth seat and imagined my time in France with marvelous people I had met there. It was over 3 years ago, but I missed it terribly. I missed the excitement and the person I had become while I was there. I thought about the boy I met there. I thought about what he was doing in that moment, and if he was thinking of me too.
He caught my eye and took my hand into his from across the table. He asked me if everything was alright with a small smile on his face. His smile was contagious; I smiled back and said yes. I squeezed his hands tighter into mine. We made eye contact and shared our souls with each other once again. He was so amazing; and perfect. But I couldn’t stop thinking of what could have been with an unknown boy across the world; I had a perfect gentleman who knew me better than anyone sitting across from me buying me dinner and I was thinking of another time, another place, another me.
The snow turned to slush and it started to sprinkle rain. We finished our second round of beers and smiled into each other’s glossy eyes. The restaurant was dark and the music was loud. It was so busy that our little table felt so intimate. I thought of how lucky I was to have this other human being in my life that would do anything and risk anything to make sure I was okay and happy.
In that moment I realized that if I kept this constant nostalgia up any longer he would be the boy I would be wishing for while I was sitting in a coffee shop in France. I would be re-reading our love letters and scrolling through our pictures like memories of another time instead of moments of this time. I didn’t ever want him to become that person; I wanted him to be the one sitting next to me in that coffee shop in France holding my hand and smiling silently at me as I continued to get lost in my own thoughts and nostalgic memories.
We walked home hand in hand again, this time more slowly and quietly. He kept pace with me and squeezed my hand tight into his. We made our way up the stairs to our home and retired to the bedroom. I slowly took my jewelry off thinking of what a fun, spontaneous and relaxing day that we had shared. He made his way behind me as I took of my socks with thoughts of the day playing through my head. He took of my shirt and slipped it over my head. He made me dizzy with his touch. Next he moved to my pants and slid them off my legs. He didn’t say a word, he just moved and sat on the bed and stared at me like every women or man wishes for someone to look at them; like they are the world, like no one is more important than you and like they could love you as much as they do now in this moment for every moment forever. I slid my body onto his and kissed him, thanking him by pushing my lips across his for always looking at me like that.