Loving “me”

Passion, I lacked. Passion, I have now found.

A new company. Almost ready to cut the threads to the other. The job I have juggled and responsibilities that were often fruitless while hours of work for mine awaited me. My company has gone from 0 mph to 60. And I sit, in awe at all. Names that are in the press everyday. Perhaps, my photos as well.

A move back to New York. A sudden departure without a goodbye to Puerto Rico. Passion, cold and coats in exchange for the balance and the sand that my toes miss. The orbits around me now have threads from years past. Strangers and past admirers. And courtship. Interesting men. But, my mind is focused on the new company. What a healthy place to be, as I have this power and comfort to not be burdened by anything that is not effortless. I still find myself dancing with the men who paint such an amazing picture, the men I tend to not fall for . . .

From Copenhagen: “You wake up at a slightly silly hour and a flood of ‘oh I should have done that yesterday’ thoughts pepper your mind and wake you up further.. You get up from bed and walk to where I have set up your laptop, on the work desk next to everything one needs to work (muji pencils, papers, post-its et al) . Of course, like you its already on and you can walk to it in the dark as the swirl of its screen saver gives your eyes a beacon. I may have been dimly aware that you got up..when I do wake up an hour later, I don’t question your absence but raise my head to hear your fingers on the keyboard and I relax my face back on the pillow. When I DO get up, I respect your focus with silence. I put on my gown and put on the kettle.. I make your tea the way you like it (or is coffee that you like on a weekend? tell me) and bring it to you. You don’t look up but you know what is coming from the times before: I place the mug next to your hand as my other hand strokes and raises your hair from you and I kiss the back of your neck just where it slopes down to your shoulders, before gently laying your hair back again… You dont even have to thank me as I know that at some point, when you are done, I’ll see your smile walking towards me on the sofa, good morning hug at the ready”

Awwww, if only. I could fall. The man who penned those words truly gets me.

 

 

 

 

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Who needs a boyfriend when you have a business partner . . .

He was my gay husband but really he is my business partner. I am not sure which one came first. But then he left me. He left for me New york and impassioned lust.

My gay husband no longer exists and those beach mornings, those dining room conversations, our intimacy, emotions and friendship seem long forgotten. And this was the hardest thing. An emotional abandonment. Threads of diatribes and outpourings of affection faded like faint swirls of smoke. The lasting memories so vague, only words . . . lost and meaningless without context.

And he never returns  . . . those words. The first night, Vieques, tears almost poured down our faces. The love. It seems ill-fated.

I do. Some days. With the misses. Or the come homes.

But he, says nothing. I can only wonder. And dream. That he cares so much he can’t say anything for fear that a hole of vulnerability and tenderness that can be cured would be created. But we move forward. With our passions and our working relationship. Like a marriage. Rules. Understandings. Aggression and frustration.

But I will never forget what started it all. The subways. The pennies. The dining room table.