I think when I started writing I thought I would just vent. Who is around to hear me? What do they care if I'm a bitch, slut, or even a raging fucking looney? But I've grown to care. I've grown to want to please. I want to write and be stimulating, moving, and enthralling. And when I feel like shit... I'm afraid of letting you down, as well as myself. But this is all I have... this is what's on my mind!
Part of my last few weeks have been insanely happy. I have one of the best roommates I could ever ask for. She is me... as crazy as that sounds. We have so much in common. We bitch the same, we're sensative the same, we think the same, and not that I know in full detail, but I believe we even fuck the same. We talk about our lives, the trials and tribulations of life as a 20-something not knowing what the fuck we're fighting it all for. What is the goal? Where is the sense of accomplishment? When is it life finally feels like you're living it and not just working toward some un-attainable mirage?
I met a soldier... on my first wedding aniversary to the husband I'm separating from. I didn't think I could meet anyone. I've gone out for years... and never been asked out, merely had words of lust slurred at me. "Show me those huge tits!", "ci mami... blah blah blah", or "fuck girl, can I take you back to my place?". How is it they know? How is it they all say the same thing? Do big tits somehow promote an inability to speak english or the lack of simple, common decency of 'hello, what's your name?'? I'd never been asked for my phone number in any proper way. Never asked to dance, just brushed up against by some strange cock I'd never been introduced to.
But this soldier, my soldier was different. I was dancing on the wall and he climbed up to find my ear and ask for a dance. ME!! A man... asked me to dance! Silly girl... I asked, "where?". He smiled and pointed to the dance floor. He took me there and if felt perfect. I write often of this dance. I write of being against him. Every seduction you could ever hope for... and I felt it. After a few songs I bid him for a break. I thanked him and found myself a seat on the wall to catch my breath. But as soon as I was back up and dancing he found me again. The second dance was hotter... I felt his lips on my neck and held his hands to my hips.
Before I knew it... it was time to go. My girlfriend was dragging me off. He said to me, "I wish I had your number". So sweet, so unobtrusive... and I told him he could have it. Afterall... he was the first man to treat me like I was real on a night when I needed so desperately to feel real. I took his phone from his hand and called myself. There... now I know he has me! He thanked me for the dance, again, and the number. I smiled and slipped away.
Our texts, phone calls, and chats were nothing less. The weekend he came to spend with me, still all the more. I felt completely in love... and what so many would call far too soon. I'd smile and he'd smile at my smile. He'd kiss me and I felt infallible, just as he felt to me. But there was an evil looming over us. He was being deployed... in days.
That curse that hits sooooo many girls as a soldier is being wisked off to war. They kept telling me... "it's not real", "this is what soldiers do", "he's just trying to find something to cling to". I disregarded every word... because my soldier was not the same. Mine was real. He tested me by disappearing just before he deployed. He broke off all contact until I thought I would burst. I went through moments of hate, of confusion, of sorrow, and of love, too. I kept coming back to the same thing... if it was all fake why did he look at me like that? If it was all a game, why not go straight for the sex talk... god knows so many had before. No, they were wrong, they were all wrong!! Mine is different! And he came back to me after a brief interlude of his own confusion.
So there he is... in Afghanistan at the Kandahar Air Base where it seems like daily a plane crashes. And on top of those crashes, there are blackouts, lost soldiers, and bombings. It's all some mad fucking test!! Will I stay resilient in the face of all of this? Can I love a man and stay connected to him despite the fact that I may hardly even know him yet? Everyone tells me this fades. I must admit my resilience comes in waves. There are days when I feel like I'm chasing my own tail. But last night... when I heard his voice, it came back. Every love... every perception of perfection... every desire to hold strong, it is still there!!!
So I'm confused and lost... and unsure of myself. He asked me to stay open to the possibility of loving another... so I try to stay open. But for now I will hang on to this one thing, this one man. Because out there... far far away, I think he's holding on to me too! And when he gets home... I will await with bated breath to get to know him, all the way... and love him, all the more.