Wednesday, 25 March 2015

He. Just. Leaves.

I think it's a moment I'll remember for a long time. I'm standing naked in my bathroom after my morning shower in my house in Cape Town. The light is on - the only light in the room. The adjoining bedroom that has full view into the shower, is in darkness.

Berlin gets up from my bed and walks towards me in his Tshirt and sleep shorts. With his sleepy face. He says "I'm going down to my own room to wake up a bit and get ready for the day." And leaves. The first time he ever sees me naked in the light. He doesn't even blink. Or take me in. Or tell me I'm lovely. None of those things that you would expect from a man who has been sleeping next to a loving naked woman all night. He. Just. Leaves.

I look back at myself in the mirror. I'm looking the loveliest I have in years. Slim but still enough meat on my body to produce some womanly curves. Lovely breasts. Open, beautiful face. Short, funky, graying hair. Not bad for a 47-year old woman with three sons! It's not me, Trudy. It's not me. Fuck I hope it's not me.

Last night he told me he wanted to fuck me. I said no. He was drunk. And full of desire and hormones. And I did not want to do the deed and have him wake up on me full of regret and remorse. We kissed. And touched. It was sexy and delicious for a while. It happened on my balcony just as he was saying goodnight to me. I was drunk too. We hugged goodnight. Then a brief goodnight kiss. Then another deeper one. And then we were suddenly there in that place of passion where reason deserts you. And I invited him up to my room. I said he could sleep with me, but that we weren't going to have sex. That if we did decide to have sex it would be in the cold light of day with zero alcohol in our systems. But I wanted to be held. And wanted to hold. And wanted to feel the safety of loving arms around me after a day where horrible news about John-the-narc was spilling back into my life.

And it was lovey to be in his arms. My gosh. I am still so starved of that kind of touch that just having it for a while around me feels like rain in the desert. And. Of course. As everyone could have predicted, two adults in the same bed together with a serious amount of alcohol and attraction meant that it wasn't just holding. There was some sexy loving too....! And at one stage he positioned me on top of him and whispered "is it safe?" I bent down and whispered again that I wasn't going to fuck him. That could only happen if he told me he wanted to the next day.

And we settled down to sleep. He dropped off and I lay awake for hours, naked in his arms as he slept. Mulling over my thoughts about the day's shocking news (to be processed in a different blog). And when I finally got up to have my shower, well, then, the rest is history.

"Any regrets?" I asked him in the car on our way out to breakfast in the morning.

"Some" he said. "I'm sorry that happened last night. I didn't want it to. I know you did. But I didn't. So I'm regretful. You must be happy though? Its what you wanted."

"Shew" I said. "People change you know. I can't actually say whether it was still what I wanted. Why are you sorry?"

"I think it may change the relationship we have with each other. And I don't want to lose that. I don't want it to be different. I like it", he says, quietly.

"It hasn't changed for me, Berlin" I say, "we're going to be cool".

"Then I don't regret it" he answers.

And we were cool. I wondered if he may join me again in my bed last night, but he didn't. He made us supper. We talked. Drank wine. Laughed. I danced in the kitchen in my pajamas to my favourite musician, Harry Connick Junior. It was lighthearted and comfortable.

And then. He left again.

And I was sad that I wouldn't be able to sleep feeling held. But I didn't fall apart. I just went to bed and put myself to sleep.

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