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.