If You Liked It, You Should’ve Put a Ring On It

This is my tribute to Valentine’s Day.

Had a little love, but I spread it thin
Falling in and out of her arms again
Made a bad name for my game ’round town
Tore out my heart
Shut it down

With a few simple words, you erase the anxiety and regret that has haunted me for the past three months.

“I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t.”

“I know. I wanted you to, too. I’m sorry.”

Your kisses taste like salvation, and when I’m with you, it’s like the supernova at the end of the world.

Don’t let me go.

*

You held my pen as I watched you from across the conference table, and I swear it felt like your fingers were pressing against my very being. Damn you, and damn my feeble heart.

**

The fingers laced through yours are firm and warm, and all you can think about is that in this moment, this tiny speck in the timeline of your existence, you feel connected to another human being. The winter air is freezing around you, but your belly feels warm, and where your palms rub together as you walk together sparks white-fire hot.

The man, a writer and an intellectual, laughs and holds you close. Trading insults playfully, the pair of you twist and split and coil and meld, the sound of your indignant laugh ringing across city streets populated only by the latest stragglers making their way home from Downtown bars. The words always come easily when you’re together. You clicked so well so soon after you met; it shouldn’t be such a surprise, but it always is.

He was the first of many to notice, and the first to remind you what it’s like to live. For that you will never stop being grateful — and proud of yourself for making that bold first move.

But something went wrong along the way. What was it?

“You look good.”

In the quiet moments, you think to yourself, maybe it was you realizing that the world doesn’t have to stop for one person.

**

The taste of bile burns your throat, and you swallow hurriedly, red-faced from embarrassment.

“I wanted to text you earlier, but I didn’t want to be a dick.”

“You’re not a dick.”

You’re not a Dick, either, you think, but you’re funny in a charmingly peculiar way and a dork and you dress well and your hands are just this side of perfect, and it’s good enough.

The mouthwash is refreshingly sharp, and the taste of connection is wonderfully familiar. There is something both malicious and pure lying between you, but the press of flesh against flesh is too distracting for anything else in the world to matter.

When you curl against each other, you think, fuck what anyone says. Everything in life is fleeting — why not enjoy the feeling of coming home while it lasts?

*

You’re always drawn to him like a magnet, but your ability to make conversation without sounding dumb seems to dissolve the moment you’re given the opportunity.

It’s the end of the semester, and you think that this has gone on long enough. Why continue, why bother?

But then you remember the last time, and those bruising lips and the mad rush to get as close as possible, and you can’t resist. You take a leap, and he’s there to catch you.

“My roommates are going to think I’m such a douchebag.”

His paranoid insecurities should turn you off (too familiar) but in truth, they draw you in like a moth to flame. And when you touch, the burn is so good it almost hurts.

*

The murmur of the bar patrons’ voices is soothing as you regale your barhopping friends — “the beer crew” — with stories. Steeling yourself for rejection, you reach out, hoping that the mutual interest is still ripe for the picking and last time wasn’t just a one-time thing.

It wasn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

If that first text and fumbling confession was what caused your interest to bloom, this moment — slurred speech, earnest words, and both hopes and fears being dashed — was the moment you fell. Not into love, and not into infatuation, but rather, some twisted, jumbled mess of the two.

Sometimes, you wonder if this is all the feeling your heart is capable of anymore.

*

“Thank you for lying with me and taking care of me.”

*

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The first time is the best time.

“Is this okay?”

“We’re talking about comics in bed. How is this not the most awesome thing ever?”

**

“I don’t want a relationship.”

“Fair enough.”

Sometimes, things don’t work out.

And sometimes, that’s okay.

*

You have never been more nervous in your life as he moves closer, then away, then close again. The kiss is soft, nervous, but like that previous one — so right.

Later, when you realize he initiated it sober, you truly believe that everything you have hoped for in the past two months might actually come to pass.

**

After that amazing weekend with you, I really wanted to get coffee. You and I both know we have a lot of chemistry.

“Yeah definitely!”

Bullshit. Thanks for making me put myself out there for nothing.

(Then again, I’m just as big of a coward.

“I don’t know if I’ll have the time.”

Total bullshit.

Truth: “I don’t know if I have the balls to get into a relationship ever again.”)

The worst was when I heard what you told her and how excited you sounded about our potential date.

I was so excited, too. What went wrong?

**

Those first two weekends are a crazy blur of excitement, astonishment, and happiness.

Clicking almost instantly, talking and teasing and laughing together the whole night, even though there must be at least fifty other people milling around you. You can count on one hand the times you have ever encountered this feeling of instant connection.

A warm thigh pressed against your own — to this day, still your favorite seduction tactic. The soft buzzing of your cell phone, and the amused laugh that emanates from the man beside you.

Cold wood beneath your fingers, warm shoulders on which to rest your arms. Soft hair and plush lips, and it’s like a wild animal has been released from years of captivity.

A shy goodbye, and then suddenly, two bodies pressed together.

As sunlight peeks in through dusty blinds, affectionate hands rubbing soothing circles on a bare thigh.

“Maybe I’ll see you around this weekend.”

So this is what it feels like to live.

**

The pounding music reverberates your very being as you are jostled through the crowd. Unexpectedly and inexplicably, your fingers become linked, and your heart is about to pound through your chest.

What is happening?

Everything is hazy.

Arms loop around your waist, and when you look up, you don’t know what to think.

This kiss is unlike the rest.