I feel stupid.
After all this time, I feel stupid. I feel stupid for not understanding. I feel stupid for the emotions I felt and the words I spoke. I feel stupid for asking him to come with me, to meet my family. Even after all this time, I feel like I was a stupid little girl. Now today, I say I want a ma. I want someone to notice me. And again, I feel foolish for it all having to be about me. Maybe because I think a boyfriend will make my life feel more exciting. Frankly, I'm tired of the question. Why does it matter if there's a guy in my life? WHY.
It's like that song you hear on the radio, again and again. You don't want to hear it but someone decided to let it play. Someone things it's good enough for a repeat. Meanwhile, I wonder if they get sick of asking. They should know that I would tell them if there was a man in my life. I wouldn't be able to hide it.
When I remember the way his hand gently brushed mine, it scares me. He was the first man to touch me in this way and it overwhelmed me body and soul. I went to bed feeling the light pressure of his fingers, imagining it all over my body. As if, somehow, he had taken a match and lit me on fire. My body greedily wanted more - though, I knew I couldn't give or even ask for more. Sleep couldn't overtake my eyes because they were lost in the haze of silent desire. What would it feel like if he ran his fingers through my hair? Or touched me in places my body wanted but my mind couldn't bear? It was late and I wanted so much more than I let him see. (I am so happy.) It was a first and it scared me, because no matter the need, this lust frighten me. How could I want something so bad and never know it? How was it that my body seem to be awaken so viciously just by a simply touch, it's all, by a man I trusted at the time.
This confuses me because later the touching became too much. The more he pressed the less I wanted. His fingers were sweaty between mine and I felt disgusted. Disgusted by the obligation to hold on to my words. I had told him we should hold hands, but it was all too much. I didn't want to anymore and I felt odd withholding. When I say something, I should keep my word. I struggled with the obligation wrapping around my heart. Eventually, I let got, but felt like a rat. I felt dirty and silly for not really knowing what I wanted. As the day lingered on, I slowly generated anger toward him. It wasn't real or noticeable at first, no, not until he brought his arms around me. My body was stiff and nothing felt alive. His touch felt like poison and I wanted it gone. I thought he'd notice, but time went on and still his arms rested around my waist. His chin on my back. I could feel his beard and it disgusted me. I didn't want this sort of closeness. I felt uncomfortable. My sister was around. My cousin. This other guy I barely knew. Right before he had come, I'd told the other three I was uncertain. How could I be true to my uncertainty when he wouldn't stop holding on to me. I wanted to scream at him: DON'T YOU SEE?!!!! DON'T YOU GET THE PICTURE???? I DON'T WANT YOU TO TOUCH ME. JUST LET ME GO. None of those words ever escaped my lips. I never showed him the anger boiling under my skin, and the hatred for him not being aware of my stiffness. Finally, I got up and mumbled, "I've got to pee," and raced away the moment those words broke forth. I heard him call behind me, heck, I aw him out of the corner of my eyes - but I ignored him. I went on, going up the stairs as quickly as I could because his touch was no longer a fire igniting my being. No, it was a torch burning me whole and I couldn't stand the ashes falling.
Today, I don't know what to do. He was the first guy. The first one to rub and hold my hand, to wrap his arms around my waist and hold me from behind. His gentle demeanor broke down my walls and he stepped inside. He showed me a world of love, in which a man cares for a woman - cherishing her in ways (at times), I was in awe to find. I felt giddy at time by the love I knew he possessed, yet fearful I did not respond in the same way. I just don't understand how I live knowing each first will be hard. Letting go of never being touched to being touched, does not come easy. No wonder, I'm sure, Christian women and men have a hard time having sex for the first time. They go from touching being wrong to right and my brain doesn't work that fast.
I feel stupid, yet afraid. I want to have a special relationship with a man, and soon, but I'm scared of the demons that will come and chase us both to our death. I'm scared of how I'll act and I'm scared of being cold. I'm scared of withholding my love. I'm scared of being trapped. I want someone bigger and stronger to hold me tight and to remind me, I am not stupid, but a girl who easily fell for the charm of a kind man.
Since then, I have found, any love - despite how it comes or how it goes - does not abandon our hearts easy. Rather, it stays, nested in a place of comfort it once found, until the beholder slowly learns to let it go. For love, regardless of its type, knows how to find a rest in the small corners of a heart.
