The Sometimes Lover
You meet a guy, not from an app or online, but a party, or a barbeque rather as we now call it upon the age of thirty, and this is strange to be a real-life encounter. Once upon a time you wished he was the one but know he will never be, for perhaps it will ruin the magic and what you have learnt from lovers in the past you cannot force it. He can make you smile just thinking about him or replaying a vision of last time you “caught up”. That smile and the glaze in the eyes, it is oh so real and he knows it as well. You would be so much more mysterious if you were and subtle, but both agree it is refreshing and real to see in a world that has hidden this. You are aware that this has a pull and you’re in… it is your addiction of choice.
Intoxicated by his intelligence, his smile, his eyes and the way he speaks so passionately about a topic he knows inside out, he is indeed dreamy. You always had a weakness for intelligence and profound minds, getting lost in their eyes as they speak.
The night belonged to passionate sex, you know it is good from the first encounter. The one that took you by surprise, and no one saw it coming that turned into a time that you will entirely be able to recall, where the hours went because you were so in the moment. It was only the sunrise that let know the next day had come. Who would of thought a year later we would still be doing this?
The cuddling and hand hold into the morning that change with the tossing and turning in the early hours. You are awake and know he is as well and eyes open and close for the next half hour. The stirring occurs, and you begin to trace the moles on his supple body with your nails bitten down to the cuticle because it is assignment time at University and deadlines got to you. You have been in your own world and haven’t left your apartments in weeks, besides the usual mundane task or to take a moment by the river. You are a creative, as you trace his body, you don’t see them as moles but rather stars and map them into constellations.
He rests his body and you pull out your paperback book to read on the bedside table. It is hard to focus remembering the night before and laying in evidence of the tangled sheets.
You remember you are thirty and he leaves you with a kiss on the cheek and wink in his eye and says, “till next time”. As he walks to his car and you to the coffee shop because a different sort of breakfast in bed was already had. It is in the moment you are wrapped up in your own bubble, your world, and nothing could simple burst it that day, creativity is flowing again. Perhaps it is something with age or realise you are learning this art of simply letting it be. Sure, there will be flashbacks that come spontaneously at the work desk for the weeks to come but not the wondering of will he text or message, for timing always worked well on our side.
It is a sometime lover, perhaps you just get each other. Battling through the 30s as independent people who are not in relationship or perhaps were when younger, realising value and the power of connection when the stars every so often align. A sometimes lover – never conditioned nor owned but left up to the universe to strike when you need that flow.