Could You Handle It?

The hairs on his chest glistened with the sweat of the moment, he lay panting, and out of breath which didn’t surprise me at all given the performance he just completed. No one had ever made love to me like he did. He put his all (and I do mean all) into every move, every nuance was his own style and flair. Slowly, as he kissed me again, deep with his tongue still wanting to explore, he closes his eyes, and drifts off, me kissing him, his cheek and his neck.


I smile thinking of the previous hours before hand. How he was such a gentleman. He was in all hopes( to a woman )a damn near close to perfect of what any one woman would actually want without having to shell out a bundle to have someone lie to her, charge her by the hour and then go to the next one. He was really good looking, shy, but when he opened up, it was like a crystal river flowing with knowledge and insight. i think that was what drew me to him. He was such a joy to talk to, to discuss the really stupid stuff with, let alone the deeper meaningful things of life. i could be myself with him, without any judgements on his part. Too good to be true I thought. And in my heart I knew it was, but I didn’t want to think of that part of it right now..i just wanted to relive the night..

He stirred, and rolled over to grab my waist and pull me to him..in his sleep. He smiled and snuggled and I let him. I wasn’t going any where for a while, and by the looks of his angelic face, only in his sleep would he be leaving here tonight.

How did any of this come about? Fate and karma I was told. The universe, God (even though I think He would frown on fornication), a other worldly force that brought two unlikely people together from vastly different places. Everything and nothing plays a part in your very d n a. All or nothing, half or whole, black or white, what did it all mean?
Was there such a thing as ‘meant to be’? Pre destination, it was meant to be all along?
Is that the way life goes? Even though we think that we are masters of our own lives, something Up There tells us what to do , when to do it, and where it’s all going to take place? Or..do we own our own lives? We make our own choices. We choose to live, to love, to walk away, to stay, to exist… I wondered. Yes. I’m analytical, very at times. I can’t understand something, I search until it makes sense. And when it doesn’t, I pray for an answer. And when the answer doesn’t come..that’s when I say, ok. Fate.

But, those two sisters fate and karma. They will fuck you over without so much as a thank you, leave you laying sore, hurting and wanting more of something you can’t have in the morning. I’ve seen it all too many times. Not with me particularly, but with others who pursued the rounds of this belief system. Looking, wanting, waiting, acting, getting, hurting, and then dying inside when it ended. And all thanks to Fate who brought it, and Karma who stuck it to you like a two dollar whore in an alley. It all comes back to what you have done in this life time, and if you didn’t do anything, always ‘something’ you have done in the other. They made you pay up whether you had the money or not. Just like Sam Giancana, or the Teflon Don, you would pay either with your heart or life. So, was it ever worth getting involved with this kind of situation? Many thought so, finding themselves loving some, and being dumped by others. Life, love..it all was like a dark vampire in the still of the night. It would come and just suck you dry till there was nothing left but a shell.

I was never one for matters such as this, as anyone would tell you that knew me well. Who was I any way? I wasn’t the pretty girl, the glamour girl. I wasn’t the skinny chick with a ton of makeup on and a $300.00 hair style. I never wore a designer piece of clothing in my life, including the knock off Tommy Hilfiger from the flea markets. I was the overweight girl who used to be skinny who wanted to be skinny again and couldn’t. So what did he see in me? I know to some that it didn’t matter, and to others yeah, it did. I always tried to think..well, my personality always made up for my physical let downs.
I always thought of myself as ugly, so when a guy didn’t look my way it didn’t bother me. It was when someone did, that made me wonder why. I was nothing. Just a speck of dirt on a big planet of souls.. I couldn’t even claim to have a heart. At one point was even told I didn’t have one. Which made things all the more intriguing.

If I couldn’t explain me, then how could anyone find me to be a friend? Find me to be pleasing enough to let me grace their presense..let alone, be with them. I never knew why I had friends when I felt like I was a loner all my life. I had even been told by my family, that I was the loner, the black sheep, the one in the corner. But, anytime anyone needed anything, I was the one they always came to. I never minded. I felt it my job in life. I loved helping out, for any reason. I was there to listen, there to move things, there to talk to whom ever for what ever so people wouldn’t go to jail, go to prison, go to court, or go to hell.

At times, I would have worn a collar if I thought it would have helped some. At times, it was a gun to someone’s head for hurting my sister. A little illegal truth be told, but I always got my point across when it needed to be gotten across. It never phased me in the least to be there for anyone, taking up for the ones who couldn’t was something I had done since my brothers were all little. Every fight they couldn’t, I did for them. My dad always told me “you start a fight, I’ll beat the shit outta you. You lose a fight, I’ll beat the shit outta you.” I never lost a fight, never started a fight, but somehow always ended up beat for something. I guess I had to have a tough exterior and I didn’t like anyone cracking it. AT ALL.

Oh, there were maybe one or two who knew the real me. But not many. I never let anyone close enough to see inside. They all saw what I wanted them to see. The reflection of a soulless being. The one who walks within the shadows of the night. And why not? What happens when someone sees’ who you really are? How you really are? What you really are? And how you became to be that way? They usually end up running, screaming like a shot dog, ears bleeding out a deep red from their brains. Overload. Couldn’t handle the truth. And I laugh. I think of Jack Nicholson and Tom Cruise “truth, you want the truth?! YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”


His hand jerks a little, and I know that he is dreaming. Wistfully I smile. I know he’s not dreaming of me. It’s of her. I’m the substitute, the flavor of the week. I’m the one who said, “yeah, sure.” As opposed to her virtuous and innocent smiles, enticing, but never going any farther than the “I would love too..but…” thing. She is too proper for this kind of thing. Did I mind? Did it matter?

He would never think of me like he did her. He would never see beyond how he thinks I truly am. I often wanted to ask him how he truly felt of me, but was always too scared to. Me..of all people! Scared! It was totally laughable. I was Super Woman! The Knight of the Reigne. I was never scared. I looked down the barrel of a loaded gun. And grinned.
I fought guys and I fought girls and I grinned….fear was something foreign to me.

But yet..this. Take it as it comes I thought. That’s all it can be is what it is. Enjoy and live in the moment. Don’t think of anything beyond what is right now. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
Was there feelings for him on my part? Caring. Not love. I cared for a lot of people I didn’t love. Granted, I never slept with anyone of them, including my best friend.

Then what in the end did this make me? Could you care for someone, not love them, sleep with them, enjoy them, their company, their conversations, their animated way of talking..their admissions to things, and not be what your gran told you never to become?

With Wade, I never expected from him anymore than he was willing to give. I never demanded of him. What he gave, he gave freely. Did that make me one of what my gran said I shouldn’t be? I never imposed upon him laws and rules to live by and follow. I never tried to change him into something he didn’t want to become. Often times, he would beg me to help him change, and when he did, I tried, knowing that in his heart he felt he couldn’t, there for ruling anything that I tried to do fruitless. I told him more than once and sometimes in the middle of the night while we lay exhausted and wet with sweat and the smell of love, that I would only take the crumbs from under the table, just like the cur in the bible. Just to be there for him, knowing it could and wouldn’t be anything other than what it was. I never expected anymore than what he was willing to give. He had his life, wife, child, I had mine. We met in the middle when the time suited us both. I didn’t just hang around waiting for him to call. (having the pager helped). But even so, I had two lives, and a third with him that I lived out daily. And he was the one to say that he loved me first. I was his alone. He was mine. We did what we did and understood that there were two more to think about. We two were happy together. And yes, that was the happiest time of my life I think. No harm, no foul.

Did I think about what we were getting into? Yes. The first time he kissed me. The first time we went away together just he and i. the first time we made love. I thought. And at one point, I ran. June 3rd. how could I ever forget that date. He looked for me in five counties and called everyone he knew that knew me. Even from him, I could hide. Even to him, I had people who would lie for me. But I had to come back. I had to face him. His anger at me for leaving without a trace. His hurt that I would do that to him, and his relief that I wasn’t dead or with someone else who had been wanting me…
Like I would be with anyone but him. Just him. I was faithful to him. And I never expected anything more from him.

I reached for the remote easy so as not to wake the one lying here. I turned on the music channel and Darryl Singletarys’ song “life made her this way” was on.. Mentally I just shook my head. Fate, yet again was talking. Karma yet again was nudging me.

Wade now was just a memory as faded as the jeans I wore. Lost in the pages of my scrapbooked mind, filed away under what could have been only if. The U.K. foot ball player (who for all intents and purposes shall remain nameless here wink wink) who captured my heart for two years…seems like that’s as long as things can go with me till reality sets in. Always someone elses’ call that I answered, letting them know. Did I make him happy? He named his daughter after me, and his wife never knew where the name came from. Seeing Cindy sometimes, he would ask about how I was, did I have someone. And yet again, I smile. Wistfully at best, not feeling the hurt that I did from him after it was over. Just as it says, time heals all wounds, and so mine are scabbed over in my heart. And he never changed…

I don’t believe in changing people. God, and life made them the way they were meant to be. Seems like some would like to think that I’m grouped with their persona of what ‘women’ in general do. Just because the ‘women’ they have been with tried to change them, doesn’t mean that I would. I don’t like being grouped with a bunch of mindless sheep who want to go with the flow of things and try to change what they can’t.. I am the black sheep, laughing in my mind, I think.

And so he sleeps next to me. If only for just this one time, he is here. And I would so love to tell him the words of Julia Roberts to Richard Gere: “I'm gonna treat you so nice, you're never gonna let me go.” But those words were from a hooker to a john. She was paid.

I on the other hand, for what time I had, was cared for. And I really hope that one day, he will know that there was at least someone who wanted nothing from him, who wanted no commitment, no love, wanted nothing more than what he was only willing to give…
Cared for him back. Just friends. Good friends.

And he will find someone who can love him and will. And she will be the one next to him, loving his hard body, running her fingers through his blond hair. Putting her hand upon his cheek and moaning in the heat of the moment his name over and over.

And I will smile at him knowingly, and feign the “I’m sorry? Did I go to school with you? Oh! I know! You are so and so’s brother, right?” and shake his hand and go on, knowing that, love or not, there will be a call made…knowing in his heart that in the end, i was the one that could handle it, who could accept it for what it was...and go on...