An Open Secret.

Life happens to me in-between. I don’t like sex as much as I like the kisses and strokes that lead to it. Anticipation is my happy place. But lately there has been a shift. Uncertainty scares me as much as mediocrity.

About a decade ago, my Father used to work out of town. I remember a time when I waited for his arrival every day for about 3 days, not knowing the exact day of his arrival. I never asked my Mother too but I just stood by the edge of the stairs looking out the street hoping the next car that appears is him. It was a celebration every time he came home. But the goodbyes were more intense. Today I wonder how my Mother coped with the parting.

Because I think I am in dire need of the same. I don’t know a lot of things lately. I don’t know if my assumptions are true. I tell him that he has changed. He doesn’t deny it but he tells me all the right things and he means it. I think he is going to leave the city for work reasons and I find myself fighting the urge to tell him every day how much I want him to stay. But I have always been the good girlfriend, I’ve always understood. It has always come easy, with good food.

Dirty Dancing.

 

While the extravagant swear by their Chanel no. 5, I sit here and figure the smell of three things that I like any day; the smell of soil after the rain, the smell of food when I’m hungry, and how he smells like in the mornings.

The music blared in the club and he held me close for cosy dance. While I let loose in between and moved around, he told me I seemed different. Matured was the adjective he used. As we walked into his room later that night I could tell he was uncertain of a few thoughts in his head. Impressed, nevertheless.

I wish every Sunday mornings began in his arms after a tipsy night, but we both know familiarity breeds contempt.