I remember the first, the second, and the third. The first was funny, because my hands were in front of my face. I wore a starry dressing gown and fluffy slippers, because I’d just woken up. It was 9am, and you’d brought croissants and orange juice so we could have breakfast together. You ate, but I couldn’t eat a thing. My stomach was knotted for no apparent reason. You were just my friend, after all. It was a normal Tuesday, and I was set to go to a lecture in an hour, but you had insisted on coming over as soon as possible. I said yes
of course, and there you were at 9am sharp (the only time you’ve ever been on time anywhere) with breakfast and a smile. You ate three croissants and I ate three bites, then I went to get ready for class.
You followed me to my room, stood in front of me, looked at me for a long time. I waited, my stomach so knotted it was practically twisted inside out. I turned away. You turned me back. I smiled, and jumped backwards to stand on my bed. You smiled, ready for this, for my awful indecisiveness
although there was nothing to decide. I flopped down, tucked my knees up to my chin, curled my arms around to cover my face, eyes gleaming over the top of my arms. You were in front of me, at the side of me, above me, all around me, but I stayed still.
A giggle. A wriggle. That was all it took. Your hands held my wrists and firmly, gently, tried to remove them. I was resilient. No words, just smiles, just playfulness. I would not be won easily. A sudden laugh, and the barrier was broken. My arms parted, and your face was there, inches, centimetres, millimetres, a hairs breadth…
I tensed as the sudden hot pressure became familiar. I relaxed. I smiled, and kissed you back.
The second was full of hunger, so much hunger. You were about to leave. We both had places to go, things to do, lives to live. A fleeting hour, and our precious time was gone. Bitter sweetness increased the passion. A year of pent up feeling, all channeled into a moment. The hunger was immense, the yearning, the want, the need, all transferred in one fleeting gesture of affection. Breaking apart left me in a daze. I still wore my starry dressing gown and fluffy slippers. Why had I not attempted to look the part? Because I hadn’t believed anything would happen? Because I didn’t want anything to happen? No. Because I knew you wouldn’t care, no matter what state I looked. I was already yours.
The third was almost a whisper, sending me into a momentary lapse of reason. In front of my door we said goodbye. So much had happened in that hour. So few words, but so much emotional release. I don’t remember a word of what was said that morning, only those intense few moments of happiness, of emotional relief. You walked out of the door, and I floated back to my room in a daze. It was only the beginning of a long journey, but already I had seen so many different, hidden sides to you. You were a puzzle, and still are several years later. But I love you for it, and I love the complex passion you bring to us.