Not inexplicable at all

Feb 02, 2014 09:54



I've been missing Scott lately, and wondering why. I mean, sure, the sex was some of the most satisfying -- I'd even say fulfilling -- I've ever experienced, and he can be incredibly sweet and funny, but he also really hurt me. But I think maybe I know.

The part I don't talk about as much is that we were really intimate. We talked about things that matter, and in depth. We lay in bed, or stood in the street, or texted back and forth for hours, talking about our families and friends, sharing our scars, weaving our hopes and dreams. There's some cognitive dissonance in being that deep with someone and being his dirty little secret. And the affection between us was so effortless: we didn't always enjoy a raucous tumble, sometimes we'd just hold each other for hours, snuggling through movies, talking until dawn.

Scott came to be the one I'd text from the hospital, when things were hard. The night Bean broke her jaw, when we got her settled for the night, it was to him I flew, his bed and his arms. One of the last conversations we had was after my diagnosis, and he was so encouraging.

I'm not forgetting that he was flakier than pie crust, or that he wouldn't even admit we were friends, much less lovers. He hurt me very deeply. But it's easier to miss the good parts when their ghosts haunt an unoccupied space. I don't have anyone in my life who's easily affectionate, who talks to me about the important things in his life while we catch our breath. And holy shit, the sex was phenomenal.

Posted via LiveJournal app for Android.
Previous post
Up