A Visceral Addiction
'Your body's like a pill I shouldn't take...'
~ from 'Alone with You' by Jake Owen
I know it's possible. As I told the story last night, I did the math. I hadn't thought about it in a long time. This year, this March, it will have been six years. Six years since I've seen her, touched her, or spoken to her. I can't say I think of her often because I don't. She was then; this is now. In her day (our day), she was (we were) electric. Her body was a pill I never should have taken, but once I did I had to take it again and again. And again. I had to. I couldn't not. I was addicted. Purely. Viscerally (funny I seldom use that word unless I'm referring to her). Magnetically. Perfectly.
That last time, the time I spoke about last night, I tried to resist. I did. I promise I did. With everything I was and ever hoped to be. I didn't want to want her and honestly I never thought I would. At that point, we'd been broken up more than a year and hadn't seen or spoken to each other since.
It was innocent enough. A birthday party. Our birthday party. We were done. Over. There was nothing left. Friends brought us together. What could it hurt? We were all still friends, weren't we? I saw her and held strong. Talked to her and held strong. I sat across the room from her and held strong. I was good. We were good.
Until I touched her. Until I fucking touched her. I sat down next to her. I remember touching her knee. That hand never left her body the rest of the night. I can still feel what it felt like when her hand pulled away from mine. Finally. After hours of sublime, magnetic connection.
That night I had the best sex of my life (all these years later, I've never come close). With her I learned a broader definition of 'sex' and 'making love'. What she and I did together went so far beyond traditional intercourse and a simple orgasm. We were exquisite together in a way few will ever understand.
She was my strength and my weakness. Breaking away from her was the best thing I ever did. Never going back again was probably the smartest. I wonder what we would be like today almost six years later. I've changed and I'm sure she's changed. But what about that 'thing' between us? The visceral addiction? I'm curious, but not curious enough to try it out. I mean what if...? What if...? What if it was still there? What if it wasn't?
Sometimes memories are better than visiting again. But God bless.......... We were something. I doubt I'll ever experience anything like it again and I'm ok with it. We had our time and now I know. I know it's possible. So viscerally, magnetically, electrically, purely, perfectly, exquisitely possible.
~ from 'Alone with You' by Jake Owen
I know it's possible. As I told the story last night, I did the math. I hadn't thought about it in a long time. This year, this March, it will have been six years. Six years since I've seen her, touched her, or spoken to her. I can't say I think of her often because I don't. She was then; this is now. In her day (our day), she was (we were) electric. Her body was a pill I never should have taken, but once I did I had to take it again and again. And again. I had to. I couldn't not. I was addicted. Purely. Viscerally (funny I seldom use that word unless I'm referring to her). Magnetically. Perfectly.
That last time, the time I spoke about last night, I tried to resist. I did. I promise I did. With everything I was and ever hoped to be. I didn't want to want her and honestly I never thought I would. At that point, we'd been broken up more than a year and hadn't seen or spoken to each other since.
It was innocent enough. A birthday party. Our birthday party. We were done. Over. There was nothing left. Friends brought us together. What could it hurt? We were all still friends, weren't we? I saw her and held strong. Talked to her and held strong. I sat across the room from her and held strong. I was good. We were good.
Until I touched her. Until I fucking touched her. I sat down next to her. I remember touching her knee. That hand never left her body the rest of the night. I can still feel what it felt like when her hand pulled away from mine. Finally. After hours of sublime, magnetic connection.
That night I had the best sex of my life (all these years later, I've never come close). With her I learned a broader definition of 'sex' and 'making love'. What she and I did together went so far beyond traditional intercourse and a simple orgasm. We were exquisite together in a way few will ever understand.
She was my strength and my weakness. Breaking away from her was the best thing I ever did. Never going back again was probably the smartest. I wonder what we would be like today almost six years later. I've changed and I'm sure she's changed. But what about that 'thing' between us? The visceral addiction? I'm curious, but not curious enough to try it out. I mean what if...? What if...? What if it was still there? What if it wasn't?
Sometimes memories are better than visiting again. But God bless.......... We were something. I doubt I'll ever experience anything like it again and I'm ok with it. We had our time and now I know. I know it's possible. So viscerally, magnetically, electrically, purely, perfectly, exquisitely possible.
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