You didnt say anything when you came to the door. You just started kissing me and it felt right...I wanted to but wasn't sure if I should. So you decided for me. The night before you sounded so pissed off. At everything. Everyone. I didn't feel like I was speaking to the same person. You sounded so mean....I knew you told me you were going through a lot but you actually didn't really tell me anything. You honestly sounded crazy and fucked up on the phone. Now that I think about it I would have preferred that fire to the cold you became.
You started kissing me and then we sat on my couch and we didn't talk about the things we should have talked about. We had some small chat bullshit. Conversations that weren't dishonest...but didn't feel open. Everything was glazed over. But I was looking at you as I often liked to do, because those pretty thick eyelashes could cut across a crowd for me. So I watched those pretty eyes and lashes peek up, over, and down my thighs and over my stomach but I didn't know it'd be the last time. We congratulated ourselves for great sex. We celebrated with Mexican food and laughed about all kinds of things. "I forgot what it was like to be with you..." you said smiling at me and I smiled back over my drink (Mexican Painkiller). I was so happy to make you laugh! You had been gone for awhile in Oregon dealing with details you wouldn't completely share, but I knew they weren't good. You were acting so strangely though that I never knew quite what to say or how to act around you.
We had great sex and great food and never talked about any issues. The next morning we were in my bed and I was comfortably tangled around you. You casually mentioned that you were going to go away for awhile...maybe move up North somewhere...maybe...wait..what the fuck? I stop you.
"What do you mean?" I ask with a confused pang in my pitch.
"Yeah", you say, like it's nothing. So I try to just as casually get out of bed and start making breakfast. But this won't work. "So like, when would you go..?" All I was met with was I don't knows and I'm not sures, and in a few months, for awhile. Nothing that sounded especially good to me. Vague statements hanging in my ears.
"Don't you want to be with me?" I ask but unwillingly feel the answer.
"I'm here, aren't I?" As if just your physical presence here is a grand gesture. Not what I was talking about...but you know that.
"Look, I don't really know where I'm gonna end up. Is it worth it to you to be with a guy who doesn't know where he's gonna be in 2 weeks?"
"Yes! Fuck me, right? Once I like someone...once I want something...."
"You want it." You say, and the loving looks are falling off those awful eyelashes that won't leave my heart alone.
After awhile of talking in these painful circles I just want you out. Maybe you sense this because you start to grab all of your things. Wait I changed my mind, please stay. But you were being so fucking confusing it makes it easier...and I didn't think that'd be the last time I'd see you. How dare you jump ship and not ask me to swim with you. Drown eventually probably but... fuck! Fuck you! You pursued me...you said even if I had a boyfriend you wouldn't care and would do whatever to get me. Where is that person now? I'm pleading with you to stay and you turn around and look at me sharply before you walk out of my door and tell me to just let you mourn. I feel like an asshole but I'm upset. You made me feel dumb for getting upset..."We've been together for what, 2 months?" Well yeah but...I thought I could love you someday...You made it sound so stupid. How can you just go? Not talk, bye. I brought this up while we were arguing because most of the time I felt in the dark while you were going through things. "But we will have all kinds of miscommunications and misunderstandings if we don't talk!" I cry out.
"I don't talk, I don't do that." you say to me. And as much as I want you stay, I don't want to be with someone who will just leave like that. No trying to figure out the other person. Assuming everything and nothing. Strange looks and words and feelings. What the fuck do you mean? Who are you?
This was not the guy who made me pancakes every morning, who got me things for the sheer thoughtfulness of it, who wanted to eat all of me up and often. Not the guy who handmade me a valentine and had his mom fedex me her delicious banana bread from Hawaii....but I honestly wonder how much of this or you was true. I want to believe everything and yet I don't. A couple weeks later you broke up with me on the phone. You sounded like a robot. You sounded like you didn't give a fuck. You said it wasn't me. You started sounding more annoyed. Click. That's it.
"Oh you couldn't tell that guy was an asshole?" said one of my friends who's girlfriend used to be your coworker.
"What, no....I thought....I guess not."
"I think he's a mover."
"Like moves from place to place? I think probably a sociopath then..."
"Yeah. I mean he was really handsome and charming. Really smart too. There was just something not right there. Off."
I guess I'm impressed I made you stay for as long as you did then. I don't even know if that was you though.