I'd decided to leave the gathering, the thickness of it all, and go spend some time enjoying the NYC I'd forgotten about.....the part of NYC that wasn't always looking over my shoulder to see if I was going to bump into that part of my life which previously disassembled my foundation and soul.
But then, he motioned to me to wait for him. As I left the room, I wasn't sure if I was going to wait.....not sure it's importance in the scheme of my day... I digress. I did wait, and a while later he came to where I was, put on what I assume to be his signature blue scarf, and we walked down the 4 floors to street level. I descended with a smile in my breast pocket because he was with me. An internal smug satisfaction.
But then, he motioned to me to wait for him. As I left the room, I wasn't sure if I was going to wait.....not sure it's importance in the scheme of my day... I digress. I did wait, and a while later he came to where I was, put on what I assume to be his signature blue scarf, and we walked down the 4 floors to street level. I descended with a smile in my breast pocket because he was with me. An internal smug satisfaction.
Two hours later we kissed our final kiss.
But there I go again, skipping to the end....when what was between.....what was between is the Happening.
But there I go again, skipping to the end....when what was between.....what was between is the Happening.
For such a long time my world view of romance or "connectedness" was lavishly painted as a few years of bliss or a life shared.
I see things much differently now. I'm taking these Vignettes and cherishing them, wrapping them in bubble wrap, tucking them away someplace safe and special, within the confines of my heart.
The vignettes are just that, small snippets of very special moments.....sometimes we are fortunate enough to have those moments be the bridge to something bigger, something grander........turning into major story lines in our lives.
The vignettes are just that, small snippets of very special moments.....sometimes we are fortunate enough to have those moments be the bridge to something bigger, something grander........turning into major story lines in our lives.
Sometimes they don't.
I'm still learning not to grieve the unfulfilled potential of these. It's been a rough transition for me, the romantic...the LTR dude....when I feel some kind of raw connection (admittedly it's happening a lot more for me now that I'm allowing it to happen), it's hard for me to walk away from it without giving myself away too easily.....and bleeding just a little. My burden I suppose.
But in some strange way nowadays, until that hammer connection happens...these special Happenings are like gold to me. Like oxygen.
I'm still learning not to grieve the unfulfilled potential of these. It's been a rough transition for me, the romantic...the LTR dude....when I feel some kind of raw connection (admittedly it's happening a lot more for me now that I'm allowing it to happen), it's hard for me to walk away from it without giving myself away too easily.....and bleeding just a little. My burden I suppose.
But in some strange way nowadays, until that hammer connection happens...these special Happenings are like gold to me. Like oxygen.
Anyway, it all took place on the streets of New York. Not in a bed, not on a couch.
The first part on a corner in Hells Kitchen, the second part leaning up against the concrete foundation of his building a few blocks away. He never invited me up, we never took our clothes off. We kissed.
His lips and kisses were that which render me helpless. Our kissing could not have been more intimate; slow and soft, yet demanding and expectant. We took our time.
We shared the same oxygen. We talked endlessly, and kissed in erratic patterns after blurting some special part of ourselves to the other. He asked the questions, as did I.
He smiled coyly when telling me about his being part of something really big. I told him about wanting to go camping. He romanticized geography and the Adirondacks and vices. I squatted against the building to make our height equal. He pressed up against me, my legs engulfing him.
I muchly disliked saying goodbye. His NYC life and all it's deep pockets of nightlife and dark personality are something I've learned I will always have to contend with when meeting someone who is living there. Although to be honest....I don't have those expectations for once.
I'm not sure I'll ever see him again. I'm not sure I'll ever taste that particular Sunday again. And as I've said, I struggle with these understandings, these lessons. I'm just a little too sensitive with all of it still. But it happened. The Happening and my JM Vignette.....it happened.
And I smile and I feel a flutter when I think about it.
A friend texted me later in the day and said he'd seen me on the street while entwined in these two hours.....but didn't bother stopping, because it was clear to him that interrupting would have been stupid and selfish.
And that's when I knew waiting to leave, waiting for him, was the right thing to do.
The first part on a corner in Hells Kitchen, the second part leaning up against the concrete foundation of his building a few blocks away. He never invited me up, we never took our clothes off. We kissed.
His lips and kisses were that which render me helpless. Our kissing could not have been more intimate; slow and soft, yet demanding and expectant. We took our time.
We shared the same oxygen. We talked endlessly, and kissed in erratic patterns after blurting some special part of ourselves to the other. He asked the questions, as did I.
He smiled coyly when telling me about his being part of something really big. I told him about wanting to go camping. He romanticized geography and the Adirondacks and vices. I squatted against the building to make our height equal. He pressed up against me, my legs engulfing him.
I muchly disliked saying goodbye. His NYC life and all it's deep pockets of nightlife and dark personality are something I've learned I will always have to contend with when meeting someone who is living there. Although to be honest....I don't have those expectations for once.
I'm not sure I'll ever see him again. I'm not sure I'll ever taste that particular Sunday again. And as I've said, I struggle with these understandings, these lessons. I'm just a little too sensitive with all of it still. But it happened. The Happening and my JM Vignette.....it happened.
And I smile and I feel a flutter when I think about it.
A friend texted me later in the day and said he'd seen me on the street while entwined in these two hours.....but didn't bother stopping, because it was clear to him that interrupting would have been stupid and selfish.
And that's when I knew waiting to leave, waiting for him, was the right thing to do.
Sometimes romance doesn't mean relationship and partnering.
Sometimes romance is two hours in the streets of NYC, blossoms from the trees floating down around you in a chilled spring afternoon, lips and legs and dreams and hopes cross sectioning.
Sometimes.....is just enough and a kiss is just a kiss.
Sometimes......... being left longing for more, is absolutely the cure.