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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And now you have a decent coffee

IMG_9212In one night snow covered the whole street and the roofs of the houses were shining in a bright sparkling white, partly because of the snow and mostly because of the reflection of the light on it. Yesterday I had a severe lumbago for the fifth time this year. The discal hernia is not getting any day better. It is just a matter of time. All was calm outside. You put on the music of the movie “Fresa y chocolate”, an old Cuban movie, one of my favorites as well as the soundtrack. You came for dinner but I could not move. I did not try to put any explanation about the pain in my back. There would be no psychological explanation this time. I believe my back was just in a very bad shape since a year. Or maybe if I dare, I have been living not such an easygoing life this past year.

You brought a small coffee maker, a metallic one, enough for two persons. I always drink instant coffee and for you an Italian, it would be a bit a pain to share an instant coffee with me even if politely you had never once criticized the awful taste of it. You said that now I can have a decent coffee in the morning. You showed me how to prepare it. You showed me how to wash it. You insisted not to use any detergent and only water. You showed me how to use the washing machine as for years now I have always washed the dishes myself. You fixed the broken lamp in the kitchen. The one in the living room and in the hall. You cleaned my computer. You installed all the apps to make it safer. You showed me everything possible that would make my life easier with a computer. You cooked as I could not. You said that you are the boss so that you could put any ingredients you like in the recipe. You cooked and cleaned. You gave me a back massage. A strong one as if I was one of your free fighters. You used the Thai massage oil – the one you gave me after your trip in Phuket.

Outside it was still snowing and even more intense. You looked outside the window and told me that you could never forget our week together in the mountains three years ago. It was two months before you left the city for the first time. We went through the memories date by date, month by month. I was surprised you remember so much about us. I told you that once before you board for Thailand I was in Tokyo, in a hotel room, waiting for your call, I was taking a bath when you called. When the phone rang I jumped out of the bath without a towel, all soaked and talked to you, naked in the room, so scared to miss your call. Funny thing is that I pretended to be totally cool when you asked me: “How are you? What are you doing?” I answered: “Oh you know, nothing special”. Yesterday night I told you the truth. I made you laugh. You remember my birthday card, a card written with a “I f…king love you” with a huge red heart on it. I gave you the card two months before your birthday so that you could have it on the birthday while traveling. But you could not wait and opened it the day after. And you told me that when we met again. I was so ashamed. It was always easier to declare one’s love by message than face to face. I told you I was ashamed and should not be doing that. You answered: it was really alright, I love the card.

We went through our years together. Upon dinner. We have our ways to talk about things without being too sentimental and yet we are. Maybe it is just the way we look at each other and the words we use are very simple, very innocent. Would it be different if we talk to each other in your mother-tongue language. You said several times you loved being with me. You used the word “love” just like that. You said you loved my hands, my smile. Simple like that when you said “love”. In your mouth it sounds simple and pure.

I told you about the tattoo of your initial once I wanted to have. You said that luckily I did not do it as for now I would regret it and a lot. No, I don’t. Even now I would not regret it. I said. You looked at me. I could read in your gaze a bit of surprise but also a bit of sadness.  “Really?”. Yes, really. You should not doubt it. I did not say it out loud. It was intense enough.

I wish I could find another way to describe “us”. I wish I had a word stronger than the one I used to define “us” and our connection. This morning I woke up. My back was still in pain. I made my first coffee with your coffee pot. It tasted much better. I washed it only with water. The snow has stopped falling for a while. The street was white. The color of the sky too. All is calm. I have always loved the next morning after being with you. Life seems different. The whole perspective of life seems different after you. Life is full of dust and you are pure and completely out of our conventional system that seeing you always make me want to accomplish greater things. You are the only person who makes me believe that I can be different and better.

I looked at my cup of coffee, half empty and half warm. I miss your eyes. I miss the way you look at my heart which is full of our memories.

In one day we enter 2015. How can I define “us” ? It is everything. From my cup of coffee which reminds me of you to anything else that exists between us for more than three years now.

2015 could be anything. I believe. If things stay this way. The question of what we would become is so secondary. Because we can be anything. You give me this. Faith and perspective.

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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 naked truth

“Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets. Fairly, and if possible, sincerely.” (Dance Dance Dance – Haruki Murakam)

We had been lovers

In between an unborn friendship

Sweet undefined romance

Floating in cloudy water

Troubled transparency

No confessed lies

Only omissions and the unspoken

Weak words hiding truth

While being each other’s lover

We offered each other our bodies

Our hearts stayed selfish

Being kept for someone else

Then came the day

We decided to stop the oversight

Admitting the unavoidable

The love for other persons could never die

Our affection to each other could never end

We decided to go naked

Only truth this time

To give birth to a friendship

We had stopped to be lovers

To fully love the other persons

Keeping for ourselves

That sweet romance

Still undefined

In a naked truth

Romance

One recurrent question comes up each time in conversations I have with friends, they always ask me: “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”. In terms of relationships or love.

For the last three years, I have always answered: “I don’t know what I want.”

It never seems important to me what I want. How can I know? Things change, I change, people change. The idea of having to define and to dig into myself to know what I want has always slipped through my mind.

But not earlier than tonight, suddenly I have an answer to that. A very simple one. I want ROMANCE. But when I checked the dictionary and Wikipedia, I was not quite satisfied with the usual definition: “Romance is the expressive and pleasurable feeling from an emotional attraction towards another person associated with love.”

Romance for me is more related to “romantic” gestures and attentions. Romance for me is to develop a deep connection with someone whom you can trust, it could be  an emotional attraction associated with love, or sexual desires, or a true affection. It is not important to fall in love with the person. What is important is the romantic exchange between this person and me but within trueness and honesty. It can be a platonic romantic affection or an ardent romantic love affair, or a strong friendship. The most important ingredients are respect and trust. And no games playing. Ever.

Romance between me and the other person would be like living in a sweet dream or in a bubble soap, colorful, beautiful and light, yet fragile if not handled with care. Untouchable by meanness, hypocrisy or deception. Romance to me is as simple as saying “I miss you” without being scared of the reaction of the other person. As simple as being spontaneous when I want to talk to the person without being judged. As easy as holding someone’s hands whenever you want to, and knowing that he will always like it, no matter what.

I am still looking for this person, the one who can bear with me this concept of “romance”. Who can understand that romance has little to do with “being in couple” or “being in a relationship”, it is about giving selflessly, being romantic, gentle to the other person, caring without demanding. As long as it lasts, making it last. In my romance, it would never be fear. Love is a possibility, is a plus-value but not a sine qua non condition. In my definition of romance, everyone would be free to love, to give and to receive and act truly and completely connectedly to himself first.

Is this ever possible ? Or am I living in a world of fantasy and unrealistic thoughts ? Could my idea of romance exist in our world ?

I want beauty, any kind of beauty, in a word, in a song, in a smile.

I want sweetness, in a word, in a song, in a smile.

I want trueness, in a word, in a song, in a smile.

In an endless connection.

That is my idea of romance and that is the closest to the idea of what I want.