You held my hands…

I have been unable to write after this concert with you.

You love the sound of guitar so I chose this concert for you. It was in the Catedral of our city. Saturday night.

You held my hands during the whole concert. When this piece of Piazzolla was played, my hands were in yours. The music of Piazzolla is one of my favorites. I have always loved tango music. It makes me feel melancholic. Sometimes even sad. I have never wished to listen to Piazzolla and my favorite piece “Milonga del Angel” with you by my side. I wanted to post on my blog right after the concert to describe how I felt. Then I could not so I just kept it to myself.

I wish everyone in this world could have the same moment. The Catedral was magical that evening. You touched my hands right after the first piece. And you did not let them go. During the break, you kissed me lightly on my right cheek, then on my hair and my forehead. I posed my head on your left shoulder. You kissed my hands. The two hands. Indifferently, left then right.

You kept my hands after the break. Now they played Bach. The same magic. Or even more. You moved closer to me. Even.

You held my hands that night, the whole night. You did not let me go. We could sleep in a single bed and still had enough space.

I fell asleep in your arms. My hands in yours. I could still hear Piazzolla and Bach. And also your breathe.

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Birthday’s preparation

“Nobody understands me, except you.”

You wrote me this at 7am this morning. I grabbed my phone at 9am, my eyes half closed and that was the first message of my day. “I totally understand you. And yes, only me”. You said hi to me and you sent me the first song of Charles X “Distracted”. I listened to it and selected another song for you. You commented on it. I commented it back. We chatted for one hour.

Suddenly I felt like saying something more explicit, something like “I miss you”, “I would love to have you in my arms”, or even “I miss your naked body”. We almost never exchanged kinky messages, or very rarely. Most of the time I do not feel especially the need to do it either. I remember you told me once that it was useless to send messages like this when we are apart. Either we can be together and then we do not need these messages, you don’t see the point of sending these messages and get all aroused for nothing. I understand you. Somehow we send the songs and the lyrics mean something to us. The title of the song as well. We carefully choose the songs that we know the other would like. Your style. My style. The lyrics.

Then around noon I received a mail from a friend in Boston. He said that my package arrived yesterday evening. My package is actually your package. Inside the package there are 50 Chinese cookies fortune with 12 personalized messages for your birthday in April. I ordered it from the US and the company did not deliver it in Europe so I asked my friend in Boston to receive it for me and then he will send to me by tomorrow. One of the messages was: “Nobody understands you, except me”. I usually start to think about your birthday present around January. It is always a big deal for me even though you always say that you do not care, it will be just like another normal day. But I always prepared something. The other day you told me that you love the sound of guitar and guitar is the instrument you like most. Then I started to think that I could learn how to play guitar now so that I can play something for you and record it for the next birthday. Yes, it could be a good idea.

My day was nothing exceptional as I still have a lot of back pain so in spite of the beautiful weather I stayed mostly inside and read and thought of you. You wrote to me almost every hour. You had to prepare for the next fight and coach two free fighters. In two days we will be together for a few days. You told me that you will take all the music I like for the trip and we do not need to write to each other that much as we will be completely together.

I don’t need to say out loud “I love you” or “I miss you”. You know it. Every second of your day, your life, you know it. That was why at 7am in the morning you wrote to me, simply “Nobody understands me, except you.”

 

Sunday walking through a park

Sunday early evening. You walk with him through a quiet park. It is icy cold. The air is pure and fresh. The park is desert. He was born in this neighborhood. He says that he knows every single house and building near this park. As a kid he used to distribute advertising and newspaper in exchange of some pocket money. He tells you that. “Are you cold?” he asks. “Yes, a bit”, you answer. “Come closer to me”. You take his arms. “May I?” you ask. “So this is where you grew up…”. You feel like you had known him since lives, before you were even born. He walks you through his neighborhood. The bus stop where he waited for the bus to come as a kid. The hospital where he was born.

Sunday noon. You arrive at his parent’s. You are invited for lunch. You are sharp on time. You kiss his mom and dad. You are in the kitchen with his mom. He arrives with ten minutes late. He kisses you greetings. He says that he likes your dress. “Is it new?” He smiles at you. The lunch lasts for five hours. He has a healthy relationship with his parents. They laugh a lot. He teases you most of the time. Conversations split into two camps: you and his mom, him and his dad. Everyone teases everyone. You defends his mom. He teases you and defends his dad. The basic jokes on women and men’ differences. His mom shows you his pictures when he was a baby, then a kid, then an adolescent. Sometimes he caresses your cheeks. You blush as you are in front of his parents.

Sunday early evening. You say thank you and goodbye to his parents. They give you cake and food from Italy to bring home. Each time is the same. You never go home empty hand. He kisses them goodbye. You two leave the house together. There he shows you the park and his neighborhood.

It is icy cold. Your heart is warm. His hands are warm. His arms are warm. You wait for the bus with him. You can feel his breathe close to your cheeks. You cannot look at him into the eyes. He kisses you a thousands of times goodbye. He looks for your eyes. And lips. Your bus arrives first. You bite his lips gently and say bye. You walk toward the bus and still feel his eyes behind your back. You imagine you are twelve years old and him too. You imagine him exactly like on the pictures of his album. You are already with him by then. Your love has lasted the years of childhood and until now. And this Sunday is not the only one as there has been tons of those Sundays before this one. He is beyond time as so is your love for him.

Pink clouds

He arrives in a cold evening of February two days before Valentines. You have your Valentines celebration early this year. He arrives in a foggy evening when outside is all dark and the only thing you can see is his smile. He arrives and the first thing he asks you is what you would like to eat on Sunday at his parents’ place. He says that he would have to write to Mom and tell her to cook for you what you like most. He says Mom and Dad and never says “my Mom” and “my Dad”. You like the sound of these two words. Everything with him is simple and yet perfect.

You like these evenings with him as he is happy with everything you give him. He loves your food. Any kind. He likes the bottle of wine you choose. He likes the tea you prepare. He helps you to set the table. He puts the candles. He puts on your favorite music. He shows a new radio station with the music you love. He listens to your stories from the office. You ask advices from him. You tell him that one of your colleagues gets divorced. You were with him at her wedding five years ago. He says he is sorry and asks why she left. You ask him about the ideal couple for him. He says he does not know but he thinks you two get very close to that concept. He says he feels comfortable in your company. He is himself and maybe that is for him the ideal couple. You say that you do not see him often to be in couple with him but everything is right when you are with him. You say that is enough. You can nourish yourself with the intensity of your feelings and these evenings.

He makes love to you the way that no one had ever done to you before. You think that describing how it is is just not powerful enough. You feel his skin and he is yours every second of the night. You say something that you had never said to anyone before him: Oh my baby you are the best. He says that you should be forbidden. The night is too short. You cannot sleep. He looks at you the whole night. You cannot speak. You just wait for his kiss. A thousands of them arrive on your body and your lips. You say that you two should get away from this world. He says “whenever”.

You do not exaggerate. He is perfection. You and him are perfection. When you describe “you and him”, it sounds normal and simple but when you are with him, nothing is normal. You float through a parade of pink clouds. You cannot be on earth for days after he leaves. You cannot work or concentrate. His kisses are on your mind. His words, his gazes, his strong hands.

He says thank you a thousands of time. He says: see you in two days at mom’s and dad’s. He leaves and then comes back to kiss you again. He does this at least four times until you say: go ! go ! go !

You waive at him from the window. The morning is still foggy. Pink clouds are nowhere but in your heads. But suddenly you spot a pale pink cloud from far. It smiles to you. The way he smiles to you.

Will you still love me tomorrow ?

Tonight you’re mine completely
You give your love so sweetly
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes
But will you love me tomorrow?

Is this a lasting treasure
Or just a moment’s pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

Tonight with words unspoken
You say that I’m the only one
But will my heart be broken
When the night meets the morning sun?

I’d like to know that your love
Is love I can be sure of
So tell me now, and I won’t ask again
Will you still love me tomorrow?

 

He thought he did not deserve you. He stepped back so someone else could take his place. For a moment he thought you would be happier like this. He thought you would be better without him and you could build a nice life with someone else. Whatever decision you had made and told him, he accepted without being mad or angry at you. As your best friend, he accepted that you walked away from him.

You have been waiting for him during his trip away from home. He could not offer a conventional couple to you. Even though you did not ask for it. He thought he could not and you could not deal with it. All of these “you thought that I thought”.

He was waiting for you and left you with space. He lets you take him back when you are ready. You had tried with someone else. It did not work out. You have one love and it is HIM. You do not need to explain.

He is there, waiting for you. You open the door and he falls in your arms. He does not say anything and neither do you. You know that in whatever form or shape, you and him would be together this time forever. You are born again. And so is he. You stay in his arms for a long twenty minutes. His head on your shoulder. He squeezes your tiny body with his strong arms. He is beautiful. He smells good. He feels strong. He is strong. You do not look into his eyes. Your legs feel weak. If you look into his eyes, you will faint. Then comes the kiss. The one that defines love. Only by him and you. You feel his lips. You have never been kissed before. You are a virgin. He is your first. This is your first kiss ever. He makes you forget all men who were there before him. Five years ago, you had kissed him for the first time. Each time when your lips touch his, it feels like the first time. He kisses you as if you were his oxygen. Then comes his voice: “It was too long. It was too long. I have waited. I have waited. You can have everything from me, you know that, just ask me.”

And now you look at him. You cannot believe. You think you are dreaming. You look at him. Your love for him is powerful. Your knees are shaking. You fall. He catches you.

“I am poor. I have nothing. I cannot give you much. You know that. If you are with someone else, you  can have a good life. I can wait longer.”

You do not answer right away. You cannot breathe. You fully understand for once the meaning of true love. It is his love for you and yours for him.

“You don’t need to wait. I am here.”

Five years when absence meant nothing to you, challenges were easy, obstacles were insignificant. Five years you have loved him. As a friend. As a best friend. As a lover. As everything you can be. And apparently him too. True love is absolutely beautiful and strange. You can be apart but never separated. In your mind you die with him and your love. You grow old with him. You can live apart or together. This is the most powerful thing you have ever experienced in love.

This morning when you listened to Bryan Ferry’s version of “Will you still love me tomorrow?” , the most beautiful version of this song, you feel cocky because of course he will still love you tomorrow and the day after, and the day after and the day after and in a century time. Like he did these last five years. When you were with him or with someone else.

This morning you stayed longer in bed. You felt warm. Of him inside you. He gives the new meaning to the “making love” words. It all makes sense. You are his virgin. You have never made love with another man before him. There was no men before him and after him. You asked for more. Of him inside you. “You can have everything from me, you know that, just ask me”. He said it once again. You feel your naked body under his strong body. “Say it again please. I want more. I want everything.” He obeyed. You came together. He cried. He is your redemption. You always know that.

The sound of love when it walks away…

The sound of love when it walks out of your heart is just as silent as a drop of snow hitting the sidewalk. For a moment you think that you can die when your love is gone. Your heart has no more space and you cannot bear one more negative feeling. You know that your love story hits an end. You feel that it is over. You do not look for any other rational or irrational reasons. You let your love go away. You say goodbye to it. You do not feel free right away. You feel peace. You struggle for months to keep the love you had. But then you realize that it was vain and you lost the battle. The love you feel is just gone. No matter how hard you hold on to it. The machine maintaining life for your love makes the last sound. Your love is not viable anymore. Dead. Gone.

Not loving someone anymore is a strange process. The departure is never abrupt. It is a long and painful process. You are not sure. First you do not understand why it happened to you. First you are very sad. You think you did something wrong. You think you screw up everything. You blame yourself for not getting things fixed. But then you realize that your love was dying for months ago already. Out of despair, disappointments and painful negociations.

The sound of love when it walks away is peaceful. Not joyful but peaceful. It is a relief that love comes to an end. For those who love to love this could be illogical and unacceptable. But it happens. Love can die and cannot breathe through misunderstandings and incessant complications.

Let it die. Accept it. Understand it and let it go.

This morning love walked out of your body and you fully accepted it. You did not fight back. It was silent this morning. Silence not emptiness.

 

Just feel it right and it’s gonna be alright…

I started to watch The Mentalist again. The new season is back. Usually The Mentalist TV show is just something entertaining for me, I watch it after a long day of work, trying to relax, watching something not very complicated. I like the characters though the intrigues and stories are always quite simple. Yesterday was the first time that an episode touched me more particularly. Nothing fancy or really deep but I was in the mood for that after having posted a piece on the blog.

In the 7th season, for those who do not know, the two principal characters were finally together. Patrick Jane is IN LOVE. After seven years of watching this show, finally the male character is in love. It is very rare that on-screen two actors could have such a chemistry as Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon. More than a complicity, either they are very good actors or they are really in love off-screen. I was particularly touched by the way she looks at him. Strange, it gives me goosebumps each time.

In one episode, her ex (the one she left because of Jane) asked Jane something like: “Do you have a plan for her? I gave her a life, do you have something to offer her?”. Later on Jane told Lisbon about that, she asked him: “Yes, and do you have a plan for us” – He answered: “No. I think we know what feels right and I think that that should be our guide”

I have to admit, I have been girly and over-romantic ever since this sentence was pronounced. It seems simple but so right. Simply said and here I am, writing something about it.

I wish any woman could hear this from the man she loves.

What feels right should always be our guide.

The past

Happiness is an art. I have been looking for happiness for the last 14 months. The more I look, the less I find. I have chosen a wrong path and since then living happily has become utopic.

I have been in couple for 14 months and as far as I can remember I was happier alone. It is a sad thing to say and probably I can hear people around me protesting. I believe I am happier alone. Either it is a true fact and I am just made to be alone or either I have chosen a wrong partner and my life in couple is not what I have expected.

Either way I am far from reaching happiness or the nirvana. I don’t know if I don’t want to be in couple or if I have been in a wrong relationship which led me to think that I am a person who could totally be alone, and die alone (which is even more than a truth).

The first wrong decision was to believe in the past. I was with my first boyfriend for 8 years when I was 16. I left him and we have lost contact for 20 years almost. Part of this was because he was angry at me for leaving him. Then for some reason we got back together after all these years. I have always believed that my past with him and my love for him were the most beautiful thing I had and leaving him was a biggest mistake of my life. When the opportunity showed up and pushed us back together I did not hesitate a second. It was 14 months ago. I have made space for this relationship and put all my soul into it.

The past was far past and the present is pain. The pain is so huge that I have lost all my faith, all my energy on the way to find happiness. I used to be joyful and I LOVE LIFE. I am now reduced to someone most of the time sad and weak. I hang on to the past to understand the difficulties of the present. I have nothing to hang on to except the past. The past of a story when I was 16. Destiny sucks and one thing I have learned from this story is that people do not change. Twenty years after the separation I have found the same person. The reasons that made me leave him twenty years ago could be the same for today. Nothing has changed except we are older and we are even more difficult and less tolerant.

I have been thinking for months about how one decision could jeopardize a whole life. I could walk away for the second time but for some reason I could not. Instead I stay and get sick and am sad. Someone once told me to forget the past, rectify the present so that my future can be better. I think I can’t just accept the second failure with the same person. There were too many mistakes in this decision. The thought of this person was my soulmate. The thought that this love story when we was teen-age was the best story. Now I can only blame myself for believing in the past. I have put aside the present at that moment to honor the past.

My sentimental life seems to go from one mistake to another. If happiness is the result of good decisions in your love life, then I would have to surrender, I would never be happy. Ever again.

When I was back at the gym last week and waiting for this dear friend, I realized that I had no choice to avoid pain. Could I make this past with “him” present again and put the present of the other past behind ? When I came home last week after seeing my dear friend at the gym I got back to my blog. 14 months were put on hold to live the other past. Worse thing in all of this is that I don’t even know what the word “soulmate” means. The one I believe was my soulmate only makes me suffer and the one who was unable to give me more than a conceptual love understands me more than anyone else.

Which past to choose ?

Fading away

He told me once the best cure for love is absence. In absence, everything fades away. I believe he is right. Completely right.

I have been in couple for one year and three months. Ups and downs. With faith. Losing faith. Most of the times in sadness more than in joy. I have been struggling. My couple was a sad challenge. But explaining why needs more than one piece of this blog.

During the whole year, my love for him seemed to fade away. Indeed. Or at least I thought so. I have been trying so hard in my couple that all sentiments or feelings I could have for him and which I could call “love” seemed very confused to me. All it counted for me was my couple and my partner. I maintained contacts with “him” but I rarely initiated them. He wrote to me almost everyday. But he knows that I am not free anymore.

I remember I announced to him my intention not to be single or not to wait for him during his times abroad. By e-mail. The last time we saw each other before my decision to be in couple (or to have a boyfriend) I did not tell him the truth. We just spent an evening like any other ones, having dinner together and talked and talked and talked with all the intensity possible that we could not notice anything else than our own energy. I could not find the courage to tell him that. In the night I wrote him a letter, telling him that I would stop the blog and thank him for the inspiration, that finally I had found someone to spend my life with and he could surely understand me as he could not offer me more. I insisted we stayed friends. He was supposed to stay in the country for six weeks before heading back to Asia. The day after my e-mail his mom told me he booked a flight for the next day and shortened the 6 weeks to one week time. I received his answer to my mail from Phuket, he said he understood me and we will always be friend and if I ever doubted about that, he would be very angry.

Since then, he always wrote to me first. Day by day.

I have put all of my energy and efforts and affection, everything I had into my new relationship. My love has faded away ? Or I just hid it somewhere or on hold ? I truly don’t know how to answer this question. My commitment to my couple was real and true and sincere.

One year and three months after I started the blog again. Asking myself where I stand with this love. He is back from his trip. He has not changed. He told me he had never written to anyone else that much and he was still very solitary. He told me he has always felt comfortable when being with me and what he loved most was our evenings together in the past. We never mentioned my couple again. Every night he sent me a song. Sometimes I thanked him. Sometimes not. It has nothing to do with my couple. Or yes, maybe it has everything to do with my couple. Am I happy ? I don’t know. Has my love for him died ? I don’t know. Truly I don’t know.

And the bus is here…

bustop

Most of the times you don’t like to miss the bus late in the night because the following one would come in at least 20 minutes. And when it is cold, and when it is raining, you just want to get home as quickly as possible as your day was already too long.

But sometimes the “most of the times” does not work. You just miss the bus. The next one is indeed in 20 minutes. But this time you don’t mind. Because he is there, waiting with you. It is cold. It is raining. You have never been that happy that you had missed the bus. You have never been that grateful that the wait was at least 20 minutes. You even wish for the bus to come later than scheduled. You would not mind at all. It is cold. It is raining.

You get soaked in his arms. Each kiss is wet of tenderness. He holds you tight. All the year long, you hate the rain, you hate the cold. Now the cold is your ally, the rain your best friend. You feel like a heroin in an old movie. You feel like you are in front of your hero. You feel his lips. Over and over again. The 20 minutes are the worthiest ones to live, the worthiest ones on the planet “Time”.

You feel like a kid. You feel like an adolescent falling in love for the first time. You feel like an accomplished woman knowing when it is true love. You want to say something. But there is no need to say anything. Your eyes mean any expression of love all together.

19 minutes. 18 minutes. 17 minutes.

Three seconds.  Two seconds. One second.

The bus is here. One last kiss. After how many kisses. 19 minutes. 60 seconds in a minute. One kiss a second. 1’140 kisses. Or something like that. The last kiss. You feel it like a deep cut.

You enter the bus. You wave at him. In the rain he waves back. He is magisterial. He is majestic. You turn your head. You cannot stand anymore this view of him. Your chest is exploding. You know this kind of romantism would kill you if you continue. You know that this kind of love is the best but also the worst. You touch your lips. A bit numb of his kisses. You smell your fingers embalmed with his perfume. You look outside. The rain is still there. You count the raindrops and find them infinitely smaller than the amount of love you feel for him. You look outside. You love your city. You love the night bus. And everything he has seen with you.