more confessions from Carla's dark closet
4:42 a.m. x March 06, 2004
It's been five years and it feels like yesterday. 5 years since I met the man that I loved and still love more than any other man I've been with.
I was married at the time and I know all of the moral reasons not to do what I did. That was a long time ago though. I was younger, more naive, more gullible, more innocent.
When we first met, I was cooking lasagna and needed to hurry up and get back into the house. It was veggie lasagna and I was sauteeing the veggies that went in it. Since I was in a hurry, my memory somehow got clouded and I remembered him as a blondish-brown haired guy named Kevin. I was far off on that one.
Jeff (and I'm not referring to the one I mentioned the other day) was gorgeous. Half native american, half swedish. Soft dark hair, curious eyes, a mighty tasty earring in his left ear, looked damn good in his white adidas sweatshirt, and later I found out that he was built well in all the "right" places.
We talked here and there as neighbors for a month or so, and I remember going outside in a pair of soccer shorts and this tight gray tank top. He took one look at me and excused himself to go back into the house. I know that could go one of two ways, but it must not have been a bad thing judging by later events.
As time went on, I started to develop a crush on him, and would go out of my way to find excuses to talk to him.
In late May, I was outside doing yard work (okay, I was really trying to see his ass but I needed an excuse) and he was outside doing something in his garage. I went over to talk to him, sitting on the hood of my car.
I asked him if it was alright for me to come in and hang out because I was bored and the kids were asleep. He said it was alright, blah blah blah.
I watched tv with him the first night and it didn't go anywhere. He made a comment about some woman on TV and since she looked nothing like I do, I figured I didn't stand a chance in hell and I was safe going over there. Doesn't mean the crush subsided at all though.
The second night, we were playing something on his computer and I let my foot rest on his. He didn't move his foot or act like anything was out of the ordinary, so in my youth and stupidity, I thought this really meant something big. I suppose it did, but it's kinda lame now that I look back on it. I was 20 years old. Touching someone's foot is not a big deal at that age.
Anyway, the third night we were watching tv again and I said something flirtatious, then he said "Well I have to admit that I'm curious about what you're wearing under that skirt." (Yes, a skirt. I wasn't at all obvious, was I?)
I got up the guts to reach over and tickle his side, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, I ended up on his lap, and one thing led to another... We made love on a matress, on the floor of his bedroom that night. That almost makes it sound cheap but when it comes to male/female sex, that's probably one of the most intimate flings I had.
I would go over there early in the morning and take a shower with him before the kids got up, go back when they went to sleep, have sex and spend time with him, and if there was any spare time for me to get away during the day, I did it. Even if it was only long enough to run in and get a kiss, then run back out.
I went to Wal-mart or Kmart or somewhere and got a pink robe/nightgown set and wore it for him one of the nights we were together. I held onto that robe set for probably 3 years before I finally decided it was time to let go, and threw it away. He gave me a picture of him that I kept for a year and a half, then ripped up and threw away. I even kept the little piece of paper that his phone number was on, and a string off of his shirt that he pulled loose. I stuffed it in my pocket when he wasn't looking. Talk about sentimental.
When I see the scene in Bridges of Madison County where she's pulling on the handle of the truck wanting to get out and doesn't, it reminds me of when I wanted to run after him so bad as he drove away for the last time.
When I hear the song Give Me One Reason by Tracy Chapman, I remember him playing it out his window, almost as if to give me a sign that he was interested.
The ending wasn't pretty but you all know me well enough by now to know that I don't remember those things as well as the positives. To sum it up, I got busted by my now-ex and he helped set it up, not expecting me to admit the whole truth and say that we fucked 7 times.. he tried to pass it off as a "oh we just kissed" type of thing and I wasn't going for it.
We tried to work things out after that, he explained his side, I explained mine, and in the end, it didn't happen. I blew up at him and wrote him a letter telling him where he could shove every last bit of it, and we barely walked away from it with any resemblance of a friendship.
I haven't seen him since about July of 1999. I loved him then though, with all I had and all I was. For all the shit that went on, he could still do no wrong in my eyes. It took me 2 years to get over him enough to be able to actually call it being over him. Although the whole thing went on for a few months, the actual relationship only lasted for 2 weeks.
I won't ever forget those 14 days though, and to this day, I still love him. There's only one person that I've loved more than him but seeing as that person isn't a male, he still has the top spot for that.
What made me sit down and type all of this, you ask? I tried to go to bed a bit ago, and I smelled him.
No, I guess it wasn't him. I smelled the air coming through my window and it smelled just like the air coming in the window the first time he and I made love.
Funny how little things like that can trigger so many memories.