Seductions

There wasn't any intimacy with the first one, only random pecks on the lips and cheeks, hugs and holding hands. The second one was a pure imagination. There wasn't a physical connection, nor a metaphysical one; we were together for the sake of being so. The third one was driven by anger; she was angry with the world and I was angry with myself; we hugged, fucked, showed affection in public places - fucked in public places - but in the end there was no passion, just angry thrusts of our bodies. The fourth one was sexual - blow jobs in the back seat of her parents SUV, fucking in pools, hand jobs in theaters - but still we were angry - most of our sexual escapades started with fights of jealous rages, mostly by her; she was a control freak and I was a megalomaniac and these two forces of self-destructive people can never end well; we never attempted to love each other more than those moments when we were wrapped naked underneath sheets. The fifth one was intimacy; I've never made a solid human connection that made me regret my past mistakes; she became my balance; we made love rather than fucked; I settled down, I fought for her; kisses on the nape of her neck, behind her ears, gently and passionately upon her lips; I felt safe with her, I still do.

There are two others. Somewhere in the midst of the fourth one, there was her. We'd speak silently at night as if someone were to walk in our conversations. We never kissed, though we longed to. We never touched, though our bodies ached for it. And just once, and only once, did we whisper I love you when it was too late. The other one was a close friend of mine. Re-education was involved. While her body was familiar, the sense of intimacy upon it was foreign. Like a coward, I shied away, ending what could've been.