(no subject)
Let it be said, in hindsight, that I generally do not make the best decisions. I have a knack for getting drunk and kissing the wrong people, for being friendly to people I probably shouldn't, for sealing my lips about things that matter and opening them sometimes to say the one thing that hurts more than it helps. Most of all, I have a spectacular talent for masochistically carrying relationships past the breaking point. There is a point at which one knows something is failing more than it's working, and I always ignore it. There is a point, when all is over, when one could begin a painfully sexy/sweet affair, and I have always succumbed.
Tonight I thought for a split second that it would be that way again. The space between us was charged in that dangerous way I recognize so well - you both see what you could do to each other, and for each other. Over sushi and beer, or coffee, or whatever the fuck, you realize how very very easy it would be to say fuck it, and to fuck. And how good it would feel, to slip back into something you know, even if it is not (and can never be) the same.
I called him on it, for the first time ever. And he called me out right back. The ball rolling, and he put it in my court, and god knows it would have been so, so easy to invite him back and shove him against the wall and bite his lip and do things to him. And for a moment, I really thought I would.
I don't really know what happened. But all of a sudden I heard myself:
"You couldn't handle it."
He nods agreement.
"And I couldn't either."
That was that. Maybe (maybe?) I've learned something.
Tonight I thought for a split second that it would be that way again. The space between us was charged in that dangerous way I recognize so well - you both see what you could do to each other, and for each other. Over sushi and beer, or coffee, or whatever the fuck, you realize how very very easy it would be to say fuck it, and to fuck. And how good it would feel, to slip back into something you know, even if it is not (and can never be) the same.
I called him on it, for the first time ever. And he called me out right back. The ball rolling, and he put it in my court, and god knows it would have been so, so easy to invite him back and shove him against the wall and bite his lip and do things to him. And for a moment, I really thought I would.
I don't really know what happened. But all of a sudden I heard myself:
"You couldn't handle it."
He nods agreement.
"And I couldn't either."
That was that. Maybe (maybe?) I've learned something.