... and he said...

"kiss me". She knew in her heart, that it would be the start of a slow, painful and deliberate death. Deliberate, because she learned eons ago what it was like to be within proximity of him. It was like running into a car-crash with the purpose of meeting it half way... And she embraced the idea of rushing headlong into a sea of cars on a crowded highway as she thought to herself, "hmmm, pre-meditated??? hell yes"...

Slow and painful, because after this whole ordeal, she felt like someone terminal with cancer, but the worst part is, she'll never know when this ends. She will definitely feel it somehow, but @ this point, it's indeterminate. She had been caught in a mousetrap of her own making. This was not how it was supposed to be, but somewhere, she made a wrong turn and got lost, again.

Months ago, she wondered, "hmmm, what's he like, now?", and marveled @ the thought, "does he still feel like some demi-god... a sort of gift to women, of sorts...?" Bitter??? Hell no, although, she did strain her memory a little, trying to recall the bits and pieces of him that she had collected over time and felt a twinge of gloom... She has never really experienced "us", not with him. It had always been him & her, she & he, with the "and" always in between, like a bridge trying to bring 2 worlds together, but never-ever coming close. The saddest part of it all was that, she felt, it had always just been her... But no matter, she would be ready, or so, she thought.

Like theives they walked in the shadows, with him leading on, and her straining to follow. In her mind, she wanted him to ask, she wanted him to be the first to ask, to maybe let him think that he picked her up first... In her mind she silently implored of him, "ask me once, and i'll say yes, damn-it!". Something seemed to spark because what followed next was an extraordinary turn of events and she was back where she started, to another life of about 4 years ago. And she wondered later on, was it the alcohol, or just being there with him that made it seem feasible, @ the time...?

She began to hate Erica Jong, for giving her the idea of the zipless fuck... She smiled, melancholic, and thought, "it would have been nice, though, to have everything without having to feel any guilt." Not one drop of remorse. It was everything she read in the book, the mystery, that hedonistic and depraved feeling of wanting nothing more.

But the experience was not zipless. There were no rose petals falling from the air, no incense or scented candles, not even piped-in music... Instead it was some maze of a cab-ride to nowhere in some cheap motel that charged by the hour and smelled musty and stank of other people's sweat... It was purely a "fuck", nothing more. To him, she probably meant nothing... He was like a drill sergeant giving out commands like, "take off your clothes, do this, do that". Until slowly she felt mechanical, like some coin-operated girl... Except she ran on and on, eager to please, waiting for... sunrise??? sunset??? Whatever, a burst of light of sorts that would signal the end of it...

The experience was not zipless, because it rained with complications, and the feeling of a steady and tragic affliction. It was like having your heart carved out in a million different ways, no one ever thought possible. It was the guilt that points its dirty little finger @ the most vile and impossible thing that she did... And the worst part was not having anyone to talk to about it, because no one will understand. So, she lets the shame chisel bits and pieces of her virtue, until she feels that it, too, is lost. No one has to know, the little hells she went through, while trying to draw out poetry out of the emptiness he carved. And like every episode of frailty in her life, it will come to pass, and then the healing comes. No one has to know the abyss that she has fallen into. No one.


***an attempt @ fiction writing, where the hell are my subjects going??? i don't know... heerap pala... will figure this out, eventually...

***The events, characters and emotions described within this blog are somewhat fictional... Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead or out of the country is purely unfortunate...