Usually I blog once a week, but I couldn’t resist this one. It was pouring out of me. So here goes.
But wait. Plug in to Birdy’s “Wings”. Listen. Feel it. It flows with this post.
And I saw Bearded Monster again. All this time spent trying to make him hate me, all the time he spent trying to make me believe that he hated me… all of it, such a waste. We sat facing each other and it was obvious. The rightness and wrongness of us… everything came back to the surface. Bearded Monster is the only black man I have ever loved. Usually, the men of my race, the ones in my country, they do not get me. The only men that are attracted to me for real, are white men. To be fair, it is more a mentality thing. Something in me clicks more with white chocolate than with dark chocolate, I guess. It is a known fact, and I have long since accepted it. It amuses me even. So imagine my surprise when I met him. My Bearded man candy. He is the only man I know from my country, that is an aberration. A good kind. Different. Very different.
It was like in the movies (better believe it). It was instant. I had never met anyone who was so like me. In every single way. We were like twins. Even down to hating roaches and not being able to dance. To food. To wine. We were special. The only difference between us was that he was calmer than me. I used to think that I was created to be his ginger. He is the type that would politely ignore bad service at a restaurant. I am the type that will walk to the manager and complain. Again, we were special. In the last times before the whole trying to make him hate me affair, he had said to me: Babe, we knew each other before we met, we are in tune.
Of course it really hurt me when I pushed him away. Aye, but I had to save him, and that was the only way I knew to do it.
So we saw on Saturday. From the hug we shared to when we sat facing each other. Everything came back. He couldn’t look at me for long. But me, I looked long and hard. Trust me. I needed to. It was like drinking cold water on a very hot day. I drank and drank. I wanted to explain why I did what I did, why I felt the need to turn away from him. With all he was feeling in his eyes(my heart burst just looking into his eyes), he listened to me. You see, with us, we never had to talk. One look, one chat line, and we understood. He listened and all he could do was pull me in for a hug. Shit. I missed him. His calm reasoning, his manners, his voice, his strong arms, his hair… everything. And there was no hate. He could never hate me. He missed my spirit, he said. I could always understand him. His moods, I always knew what he needed at every turn. And he loved me. I didn’t need reminders. It showed. Even now, I still know what he needs.
So we sat and sipped from the same bottle of drink. And we talked, and laughed, and looked at each other. And while I was going to complete my sentence, his lips found mine. I like to think that I would have pulled away, did I get a fair warning. I wish. The kiss… it was lovely and fatal all at once. The taste of him and the cream liqueur, the soft lips, the warmth… it was heady. He was whispering something mid way… we laughed, kissed, laughed and kissed at the same time, our noses touching, warm breath between us. I remember the feel of his hand on my face, in my hair, on my neck. All of it, so familiar. And when I pulled away, it was with regret.
But see. Forget all the yarns that I just spun.
All of it, it is wrong. Regardless of the fact that we were created for each other, we can NEVER be. Ever. I don’t see how. So we tempt each other with what should be. He looks at me helplessly and with regret. I hear what he is not saying when I ask him how he is and he says “I am fine”. In my minds eye, I see him drowning. I want to save him, help him. But I cannot. I shouldn’t. I will compensate in my dreams, and that is all the lee way I get to allow myself. As I write this, I remember the way he looked at me… Mon Dieu, he loves me, and one way or another, he probably always will. Regardless of who he is with. Because I was real. I was him in female form. I was me and him at the same time.
We did not mention it. He won’t say it. And neither will I. Saying it makes it present and real and we would rather it remained abstract. I am fine with the way things are. I do not go to bed at night dreaming of him. I do not miss him except I hear a song we both liked or I remember something he said to me. He is there and I am here but I will always remember him, and the deep respect I have for him will never fade. I can love other people, and maybe I have. My mind has an amazing ability to compartmentalize and he is where he should be. Not in my past, definitely not in my future, but somewhere in-between. Deliciously so. And always.
My man candy…
My Bearded Monster…
A monument to all that is right and all that is wrong.