Posts tagged with "romance"

Duets

One day I’d like to pick up an instru­ment with a big­ger range (than a ukulele1), and start writ­ing my own mate­r­ial. It’d be even bet­ter if I could form a duo with a per­son I was roman­ti­cally involved with, like The Dresden Dolls or Wild Strawberries2.

Sometimes The Dresden Dolls play extended ver­sions of their songs at con­certs3. The way they inter­act reveals such inti­macy. In each face, you can see how they’re com­pletely lost to the music in those moments of dis­so­nant bliss, but they’re lost together. From body lan­guage alone, they read each other for tim­ing, vol­ume, and inten­sity, until they feel where the other is going by instinct. That kind of chem­istry is rare, and it’d be amaz­ing to be able to share that with someone.

  1. The high-g reen­trant is what gives the ukulele it’s dis­tinct sound, but it feels so lim­it­ing some­times. []
  2. Hellllllllllooooooooo Roberta Carter-Harrison circa Quiver. []
  3. Okay, admit­tedly, Amanda’s singing isn’t any­where as good in the video as on the stu­dio ver­sion, but the nearly five-minute extended intro with Brian’s bril­liant drum solo would be worth the price of admis­sion by itself. []

The Regret Of A Night Lost

I should be happy. Or feel­ing bit­ter­sweet, at least. On the one hand, I’m thank­ful to have had the chance to share so many things with her:

  • lis­ten­ing to Bring Me The Disco King (Lohner Remix), as she sat curled in my lap in the dark­ness of my room
  • runs for bub­ble tea before set­tling in for the night with a movie or two
  • a road trip to Toronto, where I got to intro­duce her to my friends, Pacific Mall, and dragon’s beard candy
  • par­ties at Pat and Jen’s, with board games, Rock Band, deli­cious food, amaz­ing peo­ple, and gen­eral silliness
  • moments like this
  • look­ing into her eyes while our bod­ies were locked in blan­kets on the liv­ing room floor
  • read­ing my favourite parts of The Prophet to her
  • just the two of us going to dim sum on a beau­ti­ful Saturday morn­ing, and intro­duc­ing her to a med­ley of new dishes

But there’s one thing I regret, and that’s not being able to spend the night with her, for she had never slept over, you see. Sure, there were times when we stayed awake well past sun­rise, with only the touch of hand and flesh as silent dia­logue, my desire to pro­long the plea­sure dri­ving my will to stay awake to every moment pos­si­ble with her. Those are some of my favourite mem­o­ries. But the sleep that even­tu­ally took us was only our bod­ies pass­ing out briefly from exhaus­tion, and when we woke, she’d be gone soon after.

There are other things I wish I had had the chance to do while it lasted — shar­ing a relax­ing bath, pho­tog­ra­phy and video ideas, get­ting involved in a deep co-op game — but none of them were as impor­tant as a night spent sleep­ing together.

A long time ago, I wrote about how a girl­friend helped me fig­ure out the impor­tance of the night because of my ear­lier romances, and the sit­u­a­tions that never let me share some­thing as sim­ple as sleep, the most inti­mate of intimates.

In a rela­tion­ship, shar­ing the night is more impor­tant than shar­ing flu­ids. Falling asleep with some­one is an accep­tance of trust, a way of say­ing that we’re com­fort­able enough to drift into our sub­con­scious minds.

Perhaps it was my fault for keep­ing her awake. I won­der now, if on one night, I should have let myself sleep, instead of let­ting our pas­sion take us long into the next day.

The Kissing Map

There were patches of skin on her body that would build, and turn white, and flake.

She was always self-conscious of those areas, to the point of tears, but I called them my kiss­ing map, as each patch would lead my lips to the next. In the dark, the spots revealed them­selves in their tex­ture, like del­i­cate wounds. How dif­fer­ent they tasted, how strange that skin felt against my own.

I would always kiss those spots, in hopes that my lips would con­vince her that she had noth­ing to be self-conscious about around me. To ease, and share their burden.

To acknowl­edge that she was flawed, as we all are on earth, but I still loved and accepted her, despite it all.

Be Still, My Heart

Muse side face

In the dark, our bod­ies fit like puz­zle pieces — face in neck, crest in val­ley, curve in curve. I’m com­pletely vul­ner­a­ble when she lets me love her like this. She brings my guard down.

It’s the way she makes me happy with­out try­ing. The way I’m filled with ten­der­ness every time I feel the warmth of her skin against mine. The way her exis­tence gives me hope for the rest of the world.

If I chose to fall back on old habits and kept my dis­tance to pro­tect myself, I wouldn’t know this inef­fa­ble feel­ing. I may get hurt, but it’s worth every moment I can be next to her.

Maybe she’s right, and I’ll feel dif­fer­ently by the time it’s nec­es­sary. Until then, there’s no use in fight­ing it.

Not that I let myself fall for her.

My heart never gave me a choice.