{Prehistoric Amber} Consecration

I hadn’t felt that way in a long time…broken apart, split open, like an egg. Because it’s either one or the other, I told myself, later. Either it’s simple physical procurement, or it’s feelings without the consecration.

You could tell I didn’t want to, earlier. That I wasn’t ready. I wanted to, but I just…didn’t. I’ve only really felt that way one other time before. Not the wanting-to-wait part…but the dread that comes from knowing that if I do this, if I let you, it will change everything. That instead of keeping you, it may only toss you out into the wind, cause you to disappear into the ether. Because this might mean more to me than to you. Because I don’t really believe you, anymore, when you say that you adore me. Because we are not friends, and have never been, really, and so what do we really have? Afternoon hangouts with auxiliary pals. Late nights of wishing you would tell me how this should feel. Mornings when you hold me close to you and I have to tell myself not to sink into it, not to let this be something that I’ll miss later. Long days of wondering what to do, with you, now.

I am not the bonder. I don’t wait, and I’m almost always ready. I don’t do this often, but when I do, it’s without regret. That’s something that you might not know about me. If you asked me in a honest moment, I would tell you that I just don’t see the point in it. I am greedy to just have all of you, right then, because then I won’t feel like missed out, later. That’s what this – all of that, before – taught me. It’s foolish to relax in the knowledge that someone is always going to be around, the next day and then the next, so what’s the point in waiting. Isn’t it better, then, to hurtle ourselves toward the end, gain as much as we can, of them, while they are still here, while they still exist, right in front of us and beyond.

You are sweet with me, when it counts. I like the way you smooth the hair back from my forehead when we are in bed, and the way you pull me into a dark room to kiss me when we are not. But those things can make me feel awful after you’ve gone and I have to still remember them later. Because I want more than this, and I don’t know how to say that to you. That I want a date, as silly and small as that sounds. I want you to put on a clean shirt and drive to a restaurant and then sit at the table and wait. I want to put on a soft dress and walk in and feel that small thrill that I feel in the pit of my stomach whenever I see you. I want to sit down across from you and I want to talk to you, the way I want to do, all the time, and not just until a polite enough time has passed and we can sneak away from our friends. I want to feel safe with you, and all the time, and I want you to like me, all the time. And then I think about it and I feel crazy, because I don’t say anything, and I just expect you to know. Wish that you did. Tuck everything away in the text messages I don’t send in the morning, think too much about the ones that you send me.

You have seen a Me that I don’t think I’ve shown anyone. The softer kind, the one who is quiet in the morning and gentle in the night. The one who will let you brush my hair back from my forehead, who will move in closer when you want to hold me tight to your chest. And I show you this because I see more in you than I thought I would. I knew who you were – or at least, I thought I did – the moment I met you. You have never wanted for female attention, so you were probably shallow. Conceited. Maybe not all that smart, because you’ve never really had to be. So I expected that maybe I would get to make out with you, and then maybe that would be it. And then one brilliant fall morning, I swirled my Bloody Mary with my straw and brazenly asked you the questions that you didn’t expect me to ask. And when you gave me your answers, I found myself losing my breath. What if you are the opposite of everything I assumed you were? I didn’t expect that I might actually like you, or that you might actually tell me that you liked me. And that sounds so sixth grade, doesn’t it? “You said that you liked me!” But you did. And I didn’t expect it. And so I guess it meant more, that way, when you said it. It all did…the way that we could lock eyes and hold the gaze, the way I could wrap my arms around you on the sidewalk and you would kiss me, long and slow, both of us doing so without a second thought.

And so I adore you, and it makes me feel awful. Because I want you happiest all the time, no matter what, and I will pull myself away from you if I feel like what I want to say or do could make you unhappy. And I feel like this could. I feel like this could change it all, could change me, cause it all to slide away, and I am scared of that, and so I am also scared of you.

And so I didn’t want to, last night. I did, but I just…didn’t. And you could tell, and in a small, soft moment as your body hovered over mine, we locked eyes and held our breaths and I knew that this was where I would lose you. That I could do this to try to keep you, but that it wouldn’t really make you stay, not really. That maybe this is what you had been waiting for, and when it was over, you would have gotten all you wanted, and wouldn’t want anymore. And I felt myself break apart as you glided your hand down the side of my face and told me that it was okay, that we didn’t have to, that we could wait. I wondered what we were waiting for, but I couldn’t seem to make those words float from my mouth to your ears from across the dark. And so I simply decided that I didn’t want to miss out on you, and so I will take these feelings that will have no consecration, and give to you the physical procurement. And in the morning I will be quiet when you wake me, holding me close to you, and I will spend the long day wondering, long after you have left my bed empty, what to do with me, now.

Written and published June 9th, 2014

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About Amber L.

Hi! I'm Amber. I've been telling stories with books and blogs since 2004. I also spent 10 years working as a behavior therapist, which I now put to proper use by publishing thought pieces and dissertations on '80s pop music and the defining TV shows of our current times ('The Bachelor', 'Vanderpump Rules', etc). I can also be credited with single-handedly ruining the city of Portland, OR just by moving here.

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