He looked at me. I went weak. He was beautiful to me; an Adonis When his eyes bore into mine with that flash of mischief and he touched me, my skin ached; felt smothered by my clothes. My throat burned to whisper his name. I wanted to constantly find him in the dark, kiss his body and feel his heartbeat under the velvet of night. When daylight came, I wanted only to watch him do... anything; hang on every word he said. When he criticized my clothes, I changed them. When he laughed at my stupidity or naivety (something he loved to point out in front of his pals) I educated myself to avoid that shame for him. When my butt took up too much room in his house of worship, I dieted. I wanted nothing more than to be his perfect angel.
Amen
For more than three years, his ideas and plans were gospel and I was the most devout. I prayed he would always watch over me; the beautiful shepherd. As quickly as he converted me he dispelled me; cast me aside for a newer, prettier apostle. Hell hath no fury they say. Scorned? Ohhh you bet. I was angryshockedembarrassed ~ and they deserve to be written that way for they all came on that quickly. I cried ~ and not pretty, cherubic tears but the red-eyed, stuffy nose, leave-you-heaving sobs which made me look like love's heretic. I moped, refused to wear make-up, swished with Listerine instead of truly brushing my teeth, didn't eat or sleep and repeated my new Novena. I ate food that made me feel worse than the hideous clothes I wore. Nothing declared heartache (the cross I had to bear) like three bags worth of Frito grease(and hello, NOT the fun size because I didn't give a shit about fun) and stale bean dip boogers smeared across my fitness pants that had a hole up the thigh (from over-stretching or moths rather than the wearing out of the workout- faithful - a different church altogether) covered over by the largest sweatshirt I could find that had old cookie dough and iced tea stains striped across it. Who's beautiful NOW? Yeah, I dared ANYONE to look twice. I punished myself for failing; being less than perfect for him. I was frozen by the sadness that my Adonis had rejected me. I felt worthless and pondered whether I should actually take up space on this earth. My friends worried, called and tried to soothe me. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to feel better. I wanted him to love me and call me back. I wanted another chance to be flawless and prove myself...
It took another year before I could make it through the day without tears though I had to stop looking in the mirror and remarking all the flaws he must have seen; the mistakes that drove him away. I ignored my over dry cow licked hair with roots that resembled an over zealous banyan tree root system. I chose not to powder my nose, an ugly knob that resembled a car antennae with one of those ridiculous Mickey Mouse heads on it. I cared not if my shoes matched ( I did actually go to work with a black one and a navy one) simply telling my coworkers that, like the kids nowadays who wore mis-matched socks...I was a trend setter. I got suspicious nods on that one.
Then one day I heard something; something I had refused to believe would ever be uttered in my company again: the words "You look nice"
I whirled around with a venomous retort perched on my lips "How DARE you ~ notice me. Find anything nice about me! Who the HELL are you to …"
And I saw a wry smile. I froze. "Do I?" I asked smoothing my dingy white work shirt with a marinara stain on it … right above my boob. I felt classy ~ NOT.
He laughed a little. "Yes. You do." but kept my gaze.
"You're a liar" I declared. Best to fight the demon when you call him out. I licked my lips and found a sandwich crumb on them. I nibbled at it with my front teeth wondering if he would see it like a tribal declaration of war ~ Come at me bro. I'll eat you.
"No. I think you look nice." He said again and drank his coffee from a cheap Styrofoam cup that actually smelled like Styrofoam more than coffee.
I smiled back at him and he disarmed me with: "Now you look even nicer. I'd ask you out for that smile alone."
My head screamed at me "And that is what you should be. ALONE" but I felt a warmth in my cheeks and I looked down at the rug. I noticed I had different shoes on and tucked one behind the other sheepishly. "Well... I... think I would go...if asked...." I heard myself say.
And so began a friendship and a soft romance. It was kind and loving and I treasured every minute we shared. He laughed with me; not at me. He encouraged me and made light of himself. We learned new things together and I felt amazing, strong and independent. I told him everything and cried, certain he would balk and leave me but he pulled me closer, held me; whispering how sorry he was that anyone could have ever hurt such a beautiful angel. His angel. I gulped at the healthy love which made me feel better ~ no it made me feel best. We showed each other every day that we were good together and how we appreciated each other. In fact, we didn't realize it was Valentine's Day when we made reservations at our favorite nook. It simply didn't matter. I was finished with work early, texted him to meet me at the bar when he was finished where we'd have a dinner and go to the museum to see the artist I loved whose exhibit was opening. I had been smiling all day just thinking of it.
I stood there flicking one of my new, sexy heels on an off, sipping my favorite wine imagining the night; missing my best friend and favorite playmate. I was wondering about his day. I couldn't wait to see...
"My oh my" I heard too close to my skin. It went cold.
I turned to see my Adonis. He grinned at me and swooped in too close almost engulfing me in a waft of cologne that stung my nose. He cocked his best and most devilish smile across his lips. I noticed a cold sore starting at the corner of his mouth. "You look delicious." he growled against my shoulder and gently kissed it. I noticed a tiny bubble of spit on my skin, and wiped it off with the napkin from my wine, quickly trying to hide the look on my face as if he had just cut one. I backed up and turned to face him. My brain was scurrying to find the words I had practiced when I was hating myself for him. I wanted to gouge out his eyes, vomit all the Frito's and bean dip consumed in his name. I wanted to return the hurt he so easily served up to me. He rushed on about how amazing I looked and how he had thought of me so often over these couple of years. He tried several times to wrap his arm around my waist to whisper to me. He asked me why we ever split up because we were so good together. He said he missed my body and the way I was in bed. He asked if I had panties on under my dress. He told me he was dying to know.
My mouth went dry. My wine backed up into my throat. My knees were weak but that was because a surge of energy was building in my chest and racing through my arm to my hand that was balling up into a fist. I was going to knock out a couple of cigar stained teeth when I felt my savior sail up behind me. Michael rowed his boat ashore HaaaaalleLUUUUUUUUUjah!!! Kumbaya and all that. I sighed deeply, turned and smiled with relief. My back up had arrived. For a moment, I fantasized we would take my ex lover outside and after a sound flogging, leave him in a dumpster where no one would care if they found him. They might be able to tell he was a complete asshole and write that on his forehead. Or maybe we'd buy him some drinks, get him loaded and haul him to a tattoo place and just have it put on there forever and save everyone the trouble of having to figure it out. I'm all about paying it forward.
"Hi Honey. Our table is almost ready." my sexy warrior kissed my other shoulder and nuzzled my ear "Is this him?" he whispered.
I stepped back and smiled. My heart was about to fly down to my stomach, devour the butterflies that were bashing their heads against its walls then zoom out of my body to explode over us like a wired piñata . I made intros and took the opportunity to snuggle under the protective arm of my Greatest Love who stood stiffly and listened while Adonis attempted to brag about our long-ago life. He poignantly yawned and blinked his eye as if dust was bombarding them. I had never loved so much. I felt his touch tighten and turn me slightly, signaling we were going to go. He grinned devilishly and began to excuse us. I was mildly disappointed at the lack of bloodshed and permanent ink across Adonis' forehead.
Until my man tossed over his shoulder in the loudest voice I'd heard him use:
"Gotta go Sport. But you might want to zip your pants..."
Love. It's amazing.
