Monday, February 16, 2015

love is a verb

twenty eleven

I knew I shouldn't have divulged like that.

So early, in the dark... With the lights out, his facial expression was concealed (if he even had one).

I love you. I said, though I couldn't be sure it was true. He just felt so big to me. Like someone who could finish what he started. Like someone whose arms fit right around my damage, my weary, my hope.

Before that, all he had ever mustered up to say was I think I'm falling for you after three or four too many drinks. Since the first night we met, it was no secret that I don't play hard to get. I was there for the taking. But instead I found myself giving (against my therapist's advice).

He didn't respond right away (he never does). But at least he held my hand through the night.

twenty fifteen

No one has ever asked for the privilege like that.

As if this were our first time and he wasn't sure if I might regret it in the morning. Tonight, it is my expression that is hidden.

May I make love to you? Plain words, but disarmingly sincere. He whispered in a voice very new to me. To be honest, the phrase make love solicits a somewhat hostile disfavorIt sounds trite. And it reminds me of New Year's night years ago when my sister was a baby and my step-dad insisted on making love to my mother in a hotel room so small I could feel their breath from the adjacent double bed. So, I guess that means I much prefer to fuck. Perhaps because my ex husband treated me like a B-side porn star. Perhaps because then, at least I know exactly what currency with which to bargain. Perhaps because I don't know the difference between a good love and a good fuck (giving it, getting it, wanting it).

A barely audible yes.


  1. I think we wish to be treated beautifully, and by asking you that question, he gave you respect.
    Sounded beautiful.

  2. LuLu... wow... I was very touched by this... I remember the first night I was wish 'him'... I felt so incredibly whole and happy... I uttered the words that I loved him as I did... he didn't say them back, yet he stayed and returned for the few weeks he was here... but it hung in the air between us and I never said it to him again... although he knew.

    I was always there, never to play games, ready to give... do you know what he taught me? He taught me that some guy better jump through hoops of fire and love me before I ever give my heart again... I am worth it... so are you...

  3. Making love is a terrible expression, I can't say it without laughing. Also, I've always been looking for someone that can finish what they started.


  4. You write so beautifully. I could feel the longing in this and it made my bones ache.

  5. Uttering those words is almost always impulsive, in my experience. It is always in the aftermath that the feelings of discontent begin to arise.

    M xx
    Visit me - Lois Lennon

  6. please come back. your writing always speaks to my soul.

  7. I wonder if you ever check this anymore? I wrote today, for the first time in a couple of years. I clicked on your profile, hoping to see some flicker of light. I wonder how you are.