I swam after work.
Then, I went to the locker room and blow-dried my hair silky straight like I had a date.
I paid $10.32 for a bowl of vegetarian Pho.
I’ve decided to give up meat for now.
I don’t know how long it will last.
I haven’t been a vegetarian since I was 22, but I want to try, even for a couple of days.
My heart’s as sensitive as a clitoris.
I probably should have never eaten my animal friends to begin with; I think I can feel their anxiety.
No wonder I get a pit in my stomach when I eat a turkey sandwich; I’m not allergic, just aware.
Anyway, I got home, poured my soup in a bowl, dare it remain in Styrofoam for too long.
I poured a glass of red and sat down on the couch.
I’ve gotten used to my childless night alone.
I’d usually be with him, but we couldn’t do it anymore.
I love him.
He loves me.
We love each other enough to understand that
I need what I need
And he needs what he needs
And right now, we can’t be the person who fulfills those needs for each other.
We didn’t fight all of those months. It was peaceful.
I did cry. I love to cry. I prefer to sweat my toxins out of my eyes rather than my pores.
Feelings. I love being drenched in feelings.
He was the first man since my husband who didn’t shame me for being sensitive.
He got me.
Because of that, I opened; orgasms were effortless.
I trusted him. I still do.
I did things I would have never done; I’m fortunate I got to experience them with him.
But, it wasn’t enough.
Our children loved each other, but it wasn’t enough.
We travelled well together, but it wasn’t enough.
We laughed together, but it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough.
Am I ungrateful or too picky?
No, I’m just ready for predictable weekends and spontaneous adventures.
The same penis inside of me every night,
The same eyes welcoming me into every morning,
And the same hand to hold each day.
I want to be in it, completely with someone.
It’s been six years for me out here; he’s new to this independence.
He’s too soon out of it.
I get it.
I’ve been there.
There are some relationships that break because of timing.
Our timing was tragic.
I love him; I let him go and he agreed, too.
I don’t know what’s happened to me.
Normally, I would’ve held on until my knees were scraped down to the ACL
And my heart was dragging behind my armpit
But, I let go before any of that happened.
He kissed me.
Stroked my cheek.
I was disappointed; he left before sunrise. I missed our morning cuddle.
As he closed the door, it didn’t feel like he was abandoning me–he set me free.
Tonight, I’m sitting here on our date night, alone.
I chose this.
I have our beautiful memories to keep me company.
He was the one who set the standard, even with his flaws and shortcomings.
He helped me understand what I need and what I want.
I know that I won’t go back to sifting through the Internet,
Gauging chemistry through a pixelated image and one bloated resume after another.
I will not appoint loneliness as my matchmaker, not this time.
There is no rush now.
There’s no going back, either.
I will not second guess my past intuitions.
So, it’s this: it’s work, it’s water, it’s wine on the couch on a childless night, with myself.
I’m still here.
I’ve never left my side.
In time, I’ll meet someone and it’ll be the right time.
We will sit here together
I’ll read him my writings; he’ll ask me to.
Then, he’ll kiss me on the cheek
And ask if I remembered to lock the door.