This Love

Wednesday, August 30, 2006 - San Diego, California - 9:19 p.m. Author: Angel

This is where I have been...

His name was Roger, and he embodied every taboo charm we were certain to fall head over heels for. He was good looking; a boy on the precipice of manhood. He was from a world we’d never known; trying to hold his footing on the thin line between hetero and homosexuality, and struggling more and more each day, against the unseen, unknown force which swayed him. He hurt you, and yet you returned to him again, and again.

Later his name was John. His presence was as unexpected as the rainbow at the end of a terrifying storm. His sweetness assured something wonderful, and you leapt into the abyss again. You danced, you hoped, you smiled, you cried... you fell. In the bitter winter he was gone, and again you were alone. Long December, but there's reason to believe...

Then, his name was Phillip. He shined with allure and the promise of possibility renewed. He was like a drug and he pulsed in your veins, reviving instinct as well as hope. Time had passed, it was later in our lives, and all though we had danced this dance before, we obliged the dance once more, pretending to be virgins to the song. We sipped the wine of ignorance, and again you burned.

Roger, John, Phillip… the music plays... and life's lesson, I fear we have not learned.

The story plays again, and I feel lost without you by my side. Where do I begin to make sense of all of this? Where can I begin to justify this to you, to me, to everyone who might read this?!

Do I beging at the true beginning; when we first met, when I fell in love with him, when he was living with his girlfriend, when we first made love, when he promised me he would leave her, when he first told me he loved me, when I said that I could not see him again, when he moved away? Or should I move forward and begin more recently, when his brother called to tell me that he was getting married, and so I called him, and he came to visit me, and we met for dinner. How I thanked God that I had finally resigned myself to become a gym bitch again, and had lost those 30 extra pounds, and fit so perfectly into those 7's;and then seeing him, in the dim moonlight of a San Diego evening, looking so good, just as I had remembered him... just as he was in my dreams. Should I begin with the shallow conversation at dinner? How neither of us knew what to say? How neither of us really ate, how he looked at me as we walked back the car, how the quiet in the car on the way to nowhere nearly blew out our eardrums? How the beach looked when we arrived; sparkling with black sequins that reflected a perfect sliver of moon; a moon meant for lovers. How we sat in the sand, how the tear rolled down my face, how his finger wiped it away? How his lips felt against mine… after so long, how they felt again, and again, and again? How we made love on the sand, and how I told him I love him and he said that he loved me? How? How can I tell you this, when my heart knows how it will end?

How can I forsake a future unknown for the heartache of the past? How can I destroy a future promised to someone who never hurt me? Does she deserve him? Do I?

After all that has happened… how?

His name is Boyd. He embodied every taboo charm we were certain to fall head over heels for. He was good looking; a boy on the precipice of manhood. He pulsed in my veins, reviving instinct as well as hope. He was my drug of choice. He left and has now returned… and I must make a choice…