One hand on the small of my back, the other gently stroking my hair as our lips met; the only light coming from a candle flickering on my nightstand, illuminating our frames as we pressed against one another in a heated, passionate kiss. This was a familiar scene, one we had played out many times in the past, but somehow completely new.
This time he was different. He wasn't "Hot-Tub Tim" or "Old Reliable Holiday Hump"; he was Tim, my friend, and the man I was about to make love to for the first time, even though we'd been sexual many times in the past.
His thumb, which had slid down to gently caress the side of my face, now found the strap on my shoulder, the strap of the most elegant dress I'd ever owned. As we pulled away, I looked deep into his eyes, eyes that seemed to ask, "Is this alright?" I nodded my head, the slightest smile crossing my lips—no words spoken between us. Within seconds, he'd found the strap on my other shoulder and in one delicate move, pulled them to the side, my dress falling to the floor. I stood there for a moment, naked, save for the 3-inch, silver, strappy sandals on my feet. And for the first time, I didn't put an arch in my back, trying to give the effect that my rumpus was high and round; I didn't pull in my breath in an effort to hide my protruding belly. I was just Sonja—all thirty-almost-eight years, two kids and many bad diet choices of me, standing before his perfectly chiseled frame, feeling beautiful.
An hour and a half later, as I lay in his arms, the sweat glistening on our bodies, I took his face in my hands and studied it. I ran my fingers through his hair and deeply inhaled his scent; it was as though I was trying to crystallize the moment. And when we finally drifted off to sleep, he molded his body around mine and held me tight until I drifted into a deep slumber.
That is until around 5 in the morning, when I felt his breath on the back of my neck, his body gently pushing into mine, expert hands exploring my skin. Morning sex, that which has always been an enigma to me, was at that moment the thing that I wanted, needed more than a shoe sale at Nordstrom.
And in the morning, the most amazing thing happened. Instead of following our usual "avoid all eye contact and get out as fast as you can, the moment has passed" routine, we laid in bed, talking and laughing. After a quick shower, we actually went out for breakfast and sat in the Bagel Café for hours, exchanging thoughts and feelings. I learned more about Tim in those hours than I had ever bothered to learn over the past two years, and it was lovely.
In the days that followed, there were actual dates: dinner at Rosemary's after an indie film in which we held hands and kissed the entire time; dinner at Panevino, where we sat and sipped wine and watched the planes take off and land; dinner at Fleming's, which proved to be the best night of all, having run into an archenemy while I was with the most handsome man in the place. I couldn't help but wonder how he could hear me speak over the loud sound of popping cartoon bubble hearts over my head.
And that's where it all falls apart. I had been in a sales meeting and when I returned to my desk, I saw that I'd missed a call. I checked the number—Tim. My heart started to race, butterflies fluttering in my tummy as I dialed my voicemail, excited to hear his message, hoping he'd want to see me that weekend. He didn't.
"Sonja, hey, I'm sorry, but I'm off to Dallas. Back in full work mode, traveling and all. It all came about sooner than I had planned. Sorry, I guess I'm still not that guy. I hope I didn't ruin the friendship. Take care."
The butterflies in my stomach were gone; in an instant they were replaced by a fist driving its way through my gut, the pain unbelievable. How could this be happening? It took a moment to realize I hadn't taken a breath as I choked back the tears stinging my eyes. Last year I had broken two hearts, two wonderful men wanted me and I shunned their love. Now there was someone I wanted and I was being shunned. And what's worse, I'd just been dumped on voicemail.
Shoulders shaking, I leaned deeper into my cubicle space in a lame effort to conceal my heartbreak from my co-workers as I listened to the message over and over again. I didn't want them to know that the funny girl had fallen flat on her face. Again. Feeling smaller and sadder than I had in a very long time, I knew I only had one option to save face.
I picked up the phone and dialed Tim's number. When I heard his voice, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, praying that he wouldn't know I'd been crying. "Hey buddy!" I said heartily, "Did you just break up with me on my voicemail?" I laughed harder than I should have. And it was then that I grew, right before my own eyes. Instead of telling him that I'd wait, that I could be that girl, the one he needed me to be, the one who wanted so badly to be loved by him, I wished him well. I told him I wasn't under any false pretense, I knew the rules, we'd always be friends. I let him off the hook.
As we hung up, he seemed happy; why shouldn't he be, he was going to Dallas. I, on the other hand, felt certain I was going to die.
Sometimes growth sucks.
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?