now what...

Several months and many multiple orgasms later, we were still at it. It was becoming difficult though. He had sexed me and held my hand 'til I cried, sexed me on the rooftop under the stars, in the hallway and in the stairwell. We hadn't seen a bed in months, going for it in public places late at night while tight and restricted minds slept. It seemed to me the bedroom was too intimate a place for him, opening the door for too much sentimentality. He didn't disagree but the reason he gave was the need to do things a bit unconventionally. Of course I was all for that.

Three times he tried to break things off. We kept coming back for more. He swore I wanted more. I swore I was happy and enjoying the ride. I was. But was he also right? I was tired of coming back to the same space. Why couldn't he open up? I tried hard to remember all his words, everything he told me. He never swayed from his position. I'm just not there had become his mantra.

I did my best not to place any expectations on him. I deserved more than what he was giving he said. Who and what is better than you I shot back. He felt guilty and uncomfortable. To him, it was only fucking. I didn't really believe he felt that way. Almost a year later, really? We're just fucking. I hated how that sounded. That's it, really? If he had any deeper feelings, he never shared them. I was trying to take things day by day. He kept up with his mantra and I knew as every grown woman does, you can't sex a man into loving you. Still, there was something about these sessions that I could not begin to describe to anyone. This was the furthest we'd ever made it.

I went to see him once more. Gave him some ridiculously good head until he told me he had nothing left. I was left high and dry. Well, not exactly dry. Just because he had nothing left didn't mean the same for me. On the stairwell, I sat with my legs spread and massaged my clit while he stood watching in front of me. I inserted my finger and dug deep inside, getting lost and forgetting where I was or that he was even there. Over and over I took my finger out and put it in my mouth, loving the taste of my own pleasure. I never did it like that before in front of him. But it was fun to watch his mouth fall open. Afterwards, during our goodbyes, I lingered and held him closely. He couldn't get with the closeness of my post-coital embraces and said he hoped I understood. I didn't but told him I respected it if that's where he was and shrugged off the questions festering inside me. He politely walked me to my car.

The next day I had a dream that an unknown woman was standing near my car parked in a lot. She told me that I had some dead body parts stuck in the undercarriage of my car. I acted like I didn't know what she meant. But I did know. I knew I had hit something but when I looked under the car I couldn't see anything so I pretended there was nothing there.

"Really?" I said to the woman.

She reached under the car and pulled back her hand, covered in blood.

"See," she said. Then she tried to remove the body parts but it was too hard for her. I vaguely saw an arm and matted blonde hair from a decapitated head. "It's no big deal," the woman said to me. "But you've got to pull it out. If you can't do it, you need to get someone to help you. Do it now, so that it doesn't cause you problems during a time when you are most happy." I assured her I would and she went away. I woke up and called a distant friend I hadn't spoken to in ages but one who knew me well. I told her about my dream and my dilemma.

"You've never really been loved by a man, sis." she said flat out, but gently. "So you don't even know what you're missing.

I paused to think about that for a moment. I had some good memories with a sweetheart or two (or three) but it was true. None of them had ever shown me the love that I saw and admired in others. I always assumed that every relationship had its challenges.

But despite all the sex and desire, what we had was not your typical relationship. Or maybe relationships void of intimacy and deep connections were typical in regular American culture. Typical was not what I wanted to be. I admired strong Black love like Ruby and Ossie, Malcolm and Betty, Martin and Coretta. But those were icons, not anyone real that I had known. An ideal type of love would be amazing but I wasn't so sure it existed for real.

My friend continued:

It's a blessing and curse for you to be the way you are. On the one hand, it's good you don't know what you're missing because you're never waiting or searching for that mythical happily ever after love. There are so many miserable women in the world, sitting around waiting and not living. You just take each experience that feels good to you as it comes and go with it. But you must admit to yourself that you want more in this case because you know you do. On the flip side, you need to be honest with yourself and others about what you deserve without feeling like you are demanding something from people you love. It's cool that you are so free. You should enjoy the moments that took you beyond your fears. It's great too that you did it with a friend you could trust, someone who cares about your well being and his honesty is precious, priceless and respectable even if it hurts. Your relationship with him is not over but even he knows you deserve more. Just be fluid.

I had reached new levels of emotional detachment. I genuinely felt happy not worrying about the future. Fine. I'll acknowledge it I thought. I did want more and I denied the truth to him every time. I insisted I wasn't settling. I was respecting his right to be who he was and enjoying his company. New levels of emotional detachment.

My head flooded with questions. Was there something wrong with me for wanting to continue with this "relationship"? What the hell was that lady in my dream talking about? Was it time to stop? What more did I want? I hated having to answer those questions he had been throwing in my face all along. He hadn't hurt me at all. I was more annoyed with myself. Why couldn't I talk to him about this? I had gotten so caught up in the moment I lost sight of everything else. Suddenly, the thick turned thin.

I needed time to think about it honestly for once and not shrug it off in my infamous way. I cancelled my meetings, postponed every discussion, turned off my phone and put some music on. I meditated. I prayed. I sat down in the shower and smoked a cigarette, letting the water fall on my face. Clarity did not come. The only thing that repeated in my head like a broken record was a certainty that I didn't want to stop. Finally, I said it out loud. You want more than he wants to give you. For a moment, I felt deeply saddened. His position had been stated and re-stated. Could I continue having sex with him without love? Still naked and wet, I laid down on my bed listening to the Grey Reverend strum melancholy melodies on his guitar.

I put my hands on my skin and wondered what it would feel like for him touch me the way a man does when he loves a woman. How he looks at her like he adores her. His touch wasn't sexual or ravaging but appreciative and beautiful. I had completely forgotten the feeling but imagined it for the first time in years. I imagined a sense of comfort and warmth and his hands caressing me lovingly.

Damn. That's what you're missing. How can you not know this feeling? You deserve to feel that.

I had to do something to keep the sadness away I felt sneaking in on me but there was nothing I could do. The strength of it surprised me even though it faded quickly. I hadn't foreseen having feelings like this. It was exactly what he wanted to avoid. In my mind, I had mentally prepared myself for any outcome all along but this? I couldn't ignore my feelings anymore.

Great... now what?

I just hoped he didn't say I told you so.


It was the realization that I had never truly known love that upset me most. I acknowledged it and was ready to move on. Now begging my intuition to kick in and tell me what to do. All I could think and feel was that I did not want to stop. Why couldn't I have my feelings and still keep going? Why couldn't I spend the night with his arms wrapped around me? Why couldn't I challenge him? Should I challenge him? No answers came. I decided to let fate decide.