Gift me with anything but indifference

The moments in which I am frustrated exceed those that I am not. Was it not but a week ago where we reconciled? Where my body had one of those nights she will never forget?

 Last night you danced with me to Fonseca. Moments before, Jorge spun me around effortlessly; my legs and hips performing the salsa perfectly. But with you, I had two left feet. You had patience. I stepped on your sock. Don’t move your hips. Just your feet. Painful minutes with no success. You stole a kiss. And my heart skipped a beat.

I suppose dancing is not necessarily an indicator of the rhythm of two in bed. Despite our unlikey matching, last night, I saw you for the first time as a future partner. You were smiling, singing and I felt just how much I adore you. How attracted I am to the wrinkles that surround your eyes. I would be willing to make you mine. Perhaps, our wedding could be without the newlyweds’ dance?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

The night was far from perfect. Yet, that moment was. But, it, just a moment. As are we. Infrequent moments. Rotten milk more consistent.

And now I sit. In thoughts, recurring, more common. Frustrated. Wondering. Telling myself this isn’t worth it. It should end.

As succint as your parting bye this morning. I stared at the rearview mirror as I departed the back seat, searching for more. Your glasses hid your eyes. And you offered nothing else. I called moments later. You didn’t answer. I assume you are angry. No, I hope you are. Your indifference would hurt more. Anger received by indifference. The sum of which may be our end should you be an indifferent man unwilling of the effort. Am I this naïve? I, a masochist? Tell me I am wrong. Tell me I am worth at least this. I wait. With each ding and vibration of my phone, I jump. But it isn’t you.

It has been 24 hours now. 

Like an addiction. I search for the willpower. To refrain. At this point, all I want, a conversation. Perhaps, gift me with our end.

9 thoughts on “Gift me with anything but indifference

  1. I know that feeling…. and I’ve worked damn hard on learning how to hold myself in those moments. I’m still learning.

    If there’s anyway that you can surround yourself with good friends right — esp. girlfriends. Call one or two. Go on a walk. Go out for some healthy food. Take care of yourself.

    As everyone tells me — you included — you ALSO deserve to be adored and loved.

  2. Life is made up of moments that arise and dissipate. All we can really do is pay attention to the now. Holding on to anything else can bring fretting thoughts and anxious feelings. (Though, we all do it)

  3. Thank you both of you!! I sit here my with my thoughts being flooded. So tempted to call him, but too proud to do so or rather, knowledgeable of how much more it would hurt should he fail to answer. The fretting thoughts would only mount.

    Dadshouse- you are so right. Any tips to learning how to stay in the moment? I wonder if this is easier for men?

    Single Mom Seeking- You are right. And you brought my attention to the fact I only have one girlfriend here. I think perhaps, I should throw my energy into making more.

    I am holding myself in this moment better now with your words. It is comforting to know you have been here too . . . thank you.

  4. Baited breath and a pensive mind. Your chasing bubbles, I think, and hoping that they pop on their own before you burst them. Reach out and grab — if you DO destroy, at least it will be deliberate, and on your terms.

  5. the baited breath has ended and we have had our first fight. I, outside, a restaurant. My purse stuck inside. How I wanted to retrieve and leave. Not become a play for those to watch through the fogged windows. But we fought and I raised my voice. I walked in circles for all to see . . .

    the sand is gone. And now, I am calmed. Will post now.

  6. Pingback: Refuge « Attaining the unattainable

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