And I Never Want to Lose You

A Memoir

Smiling like the proverbial cat that ate the canary, I click the ‘send’ button. Easing back in my patio chair, I prop my bare feet on the table in front of me, laptop balanced on my thighs– and wait for his reaction. It doesn’t take more than a minute or two for a message to appear on my screen:

”I like where this is going 😉 “

Fingertips fluttering across the keyboard, I reply:

“Does it sound feasible? I mean, does it seem natural?”

Him: “Absolutely! I like the way you really capture my personality…”

I raise my face toward the morning sun and close my eyes. I feel warm. I feel happy.

Our thing is back in full swing. I don’t know where we are headed, but I don’t bother asking questions. I’m just happy he is back in my life.

We talk every day now, often in hour-long G-chat hangouts. He sends me original poetry, written about me. About us. I become accustomed, once again, to waking up with his words waiting for me. We have both adjusted to the five-hour time difference—I send him off to bed at my dinner time, and he tells me good morning on his lunch break at work.

On Friday I ask him to write a vignette about us, detailing what it would be like if we met in person, for real, someday. Something to keep him busy and connected while I am otherwise engaged in my real world weekend activities.

Within just a few hours a lurid piece of graphic erotica appears in my inbox. My face feels hot and the sensation of arousal and illicit pleasure floods my bloodstream as I scan the lines, discovering his plans, the things he would like to do to me and the things he imagines I would do to him. His stream-of-consciousness wet dream reads palpably, every phrase drenched with excitement and longing.

In my own frenzied excitement, I decide to rework the text, writing it from my point of view…how I imagine things might happen. I lend it a working title: Cheat Day. Slowing the pace of the narrative, my prose allows the heat to build slowly between the two characters (us), whereas his story goes from zero to fuck by the second paragraph. But, I forgive his unbridled enthusiasm.

The book tour theme was his idea, as he believes one day there will be one. I admire his dedication to the dream of being accepted by a publishing house. Me, on the other hand…I’m a lazy author, only writing when the mood hits me. When I am with him, the mood hits me well and often.

But, if I’m being truthful with myself, my writing is the best, the most emotional and profuse–when we are estranged. With my heart in a chokehold of longing, jealousy and rage. This is my experience of passionate love. It thrives on scarcity.

But for now, how weightless the world feels when we are alone together–suspended in time, free from the gravity of our day-to-day existence. Our minds and hearts fuse together, locked in the embrace of our desire, although we are worlds apart.

To be continued…