Birthday Texts

Only me. It could only happen in my life that a simple “Happy Birthday” text message turns into something far from the intention. It was innocent, I swear all I did was text her “Happy Birthday”, but she needed more from me. It’s a ritual I enact a few dozen times each year, at midnight I call or text a family member or friend “Happy Birthday”; I’m not big on holidays, but I believe birthdays are special and I like to ensure that someone feels that way on their day. However, I may soon be changing my practice, here’s why…

At 7:14am on a cold winter’s Saturday morning my phone went off and there was a simple “Thank You” message text, so I ignored it, a simple reply to a simple message. What came next was the inevitable birthday question, “What are you getting me?”, to which I replied, “Same thing as last year, only better”. It was my belief that I gave her nothing for her birthday and I was sure I didn’t, I don’t buy gifts for people. The toothy smiley face in my inbox told me something different, but I figured she was just excited about it being her birthday.

A barrage of text messages came through telling me how she’d been missing me, missing the things we used to do, missing me inside of her. I was dumbfounded, unsure of where this all came from, we had “the talk” months before and I believed she understood I was moving in a different direction with my life, a direction that didn’t include her. The final text replayed what we did for her birthday last; the drinks, the vibrator, the pictures, the video, the friend, the disappearing condom…all of that!

What had I done? I’d reopened the closet where I concealed the bones and nights Rick James would blush at, I’d done so much in recent months to remove myself from that lifestyle, that when I came face-to-face with it I was embarrassed. But here she was excited, thinking that I returned to her, if only for one night.

My apologies and explanations seemed to be falling on deaf ears, she was already making plans around what she believed would be a late-night tryst, she believed she was going to get the gift that had stopped giving, me. I reminded her of our previous conversation, reminded her that she didn’t fit into my new life, reminded her why, but it didn’t matter, I had reminded her of what she loved and what she didn’t have anymore.

Here I am at 7:30 in the morning, having a conversation I’ve had to have too many times in the previous months, hoping my sincerity is felt through 160 character bursts. I really couldn’t concern myself with how she felt, I only knew what I felt and the change that was needed…so I changed my telephone number within the next five minutes!

An Adventure as Her: That Old Thing

I haven’t written like this in a long time, and you’re my inspiration. I’ve done everything that I can think of to get you off of my mind. Nothing seems to work. My body is betraying my common sense. You’re off limits. So, why is it that I seem to be craving you like I am?I can still remember how your lips feel. I can still feel your sweaty body pressed against mine. I can still feel your hands grabbing my body. I can still feel your tongue between my legs. I am with him and I love him, but my body misses you. I miss you. I want to feel you again. I want to smell you again. I want to taste you again.

We keep doing this dance, stepping carefully so as to not step on the spots where our true feelings have spilled. We speak in metaphor avoiding what we really want to say. I want you, again.

I know we’re both attached but can’t we just pretend for one night that we belong to each other? Can’t we pretend that my body is yours and yours is mine? Don’t you know that no one has ever touched me the way that you have? Don’t you know that no one has made me sing the way that you have? Don’t you?

So many nights I lay here thinking about our time together. So many nights I lay here with my fingers between my legs remembering the last time that you touched me. So many nights I wish that my legs were intertwined with yours, your breath against my neck and my nose in your hair.

I miss those nights of me sneaking in the night seeking what I’ve been missing.

I miss those nights in the tub with you washing my body, kissing my neck, making me speak my truth through moans.

I miss those nights of me running to you because you knew what I wanted and needed if I didn’t. I miss those nights of  you soothing my soul through your strokes and kisses.

I know better. I know you’re with her. I know I’m with him. My body doesn’t care. My warmth doesn’t care. I crave you.

Somethings don’t have to make sense and you between my thighs is one of them. Fuck the questions and over analyzing. Slide into me and show me what I’ve been missing and running away from. Remind me why this happened in the first place!

I lay back and exhale. You’re not here. I’m not there. I just have these memories of what was and I want it again. We know better. We’re attached. Why does what’s wrong feel so right?