Loving, cherishing and celebrating ex-lovers is an unpopular phenomenon that completely and utterly blows my skirt up. And it’s a phenomenon in which nowadays many appreciate but not me. We often see and experience break-ups that end in malice and with hard feelings. I said some things, he said some things but in the end I have to believe we were both hurt by things said. I don’t need to cite any examples, as I’m sure we all know of plenty.
But as unpleasant as this may be, I cannot justify or entertain the transition from love to hate. They say the line between love and hate is only thin when there was no love to begin with. I only hold love in my heart when I smile upon the memories of my ex-lover. I can truly appreciate the learning experiences of these journeys and the tiny connection that we shared.
When I love someone, I find that it is a merging of lives at some level. When you part ways, I find that this merging doesn’t fully come undone; instead, I enjoy keeping in touch and exploring our connection in a different context. If someone played any role in my experience on this Earth, I don’t think that I’d want to write them out of my life forever unless the relationship was truly toxic. It really wasn’t.
The weeks that passed in many ways felt like I had graduated from the feelings of missing him and I didn’t really love him. I was literally a new woman; incapable of seeing life the way I had previously. I had undergone the most radical, holistic, and spiritual rebirth anyone could imagine. It was intense but worth the time and the painful truth.
My mother and close friends couldn’t relate to me any more and I felt myself drifting away from them like insignificant acquaintances, making way for a new set of rules and friends who vibrated on a higher plane. It was a plane I hadn’t even known existed months ago, one I couldn’t grasp or conceive of until I met my therapist.
Leaving what I would call a healthy marriage and venturing into the unknown was scary but I was up for the challenge. And now this new found love was going to challenge me further and boy I was ready. Change was still a little scary for me but I knew that I was better prepared to face the unknown than I had ever been before in my life. When I shut the door to the therapist office, I knew I was shutting the door on my thoughts of wanting to use sex to numb the pain of my insecurities, of projecting my lust onto men and expecting them to conform to my distorted view. It was only after 8 very intense weeks of radical therapy that I took responsibility for my emotions, owned them, and didn’t try to hide from them in a blur of irrational and immature behaviour that made excuses for my new dysfunction. I couldn’t look at men the same way because I was a new woman.
After each secession as I would drive home I was relinquishing my fears and embracing my future. My old self would have seen this as an excuse to celebrate by getting tipsy and waking up the next day with fuzzy memories and regrets.
Instead I stopped off at WalMart to see if I could get some things to help me organize my closet.
But this is where things take a turn in the wrong direction. I called my former lover one night because I truly missed him. We continued to exchange pleasantries. He referred to my cry for his affection as a 'booty call'. I never could figure out why he would regard my passion and deep affection for him in such a manner. I was so proud of myself for not making crude, sexual jokes even at a time li it felt natural. The truth is I wanted to feel him deep within the depths of me. I wanted to taste his sweet nectar. I wanted his scent all over me.
I made plans to call the next day, and I called. I called around supper time to see what we would like to eat that evening. True to my word, I came bearing gifts. I greeted him with a big huge smile like he was a long lost friend. I was confident that there was a connection that couldn’t be denied. It was a relationship that had potential; there was an undeniable heat that was smouldering between us. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his mouth softly. I could feel the divided mounts. I felt his wrath that was upon me. I had butterflies in my stomach and my knees were weak. It was like my first kiss ever. I heard HIS whisper like music to my ears. The thought of him on my body, made my brown skin glow. The sheets were fresh and he helped to undress me. I laid down on the bed and it was all I could do to keep from hyperventilating. All I was thinking at that point is “Stay with me, don’t leave me” as I spread my legs and invited him to reside in me.
His skin next to mine was like heaven. I wrapped my legs around him and felt like I was in a cocoon of sweet masculinity. His dick was as hard as a rock and I was grinding my body against him, making him dizzy with sensations.
It was important for me to take things slowly, to give him great pleasure. I wanted to re-learn his body, to let go of everything I’d learned in the past to experience making love with him, as if it was my first time. I could feel the heat from his body scorching me; I wanted him to be inside me in a way I’d never felt before. It was an overwhelming desire to reconnect to him. He began sucking my hardened nipples. I kissed my way down his body, licking his tummy and down my way to his manhood. He slid my panties down my legs and stared at my butterfly. My wings opened sensually and seemed to be calling to him. He lowered his hand and began gently penetrating at her flowing juices. My tongue softly licked his sweetness tasting his sweet wine and savouring his flavours.
Minutes passed like milliseconds I was desperate to have him inside me. My heart skipped a beat as he asked if I did not want him inside me. He took the head of his Penis and placed it near my wings. The heat traveled from his body and into mine. My silky walls grabbed him and pulled him deeper. Our cries echoed out into the calm night sky. He was stroking me hard and I was meeting each thrust with passion. It was too intense. I couldn’t control myself. It had been many weeks. I needed to have him deep inside me, to fill me completely. He was, giving me pleasure like he’d never done before, and I experiencing pleasure in ways I’d never known were possible.
I was cumming all over him. My body was trembling and my juices were flowing freely. He concentrated and kept up his technique. He lowered my legs from his shoulders and gripped my hips tightly. The head of his penis was hitting bottom and he couldn’t stop his own orgasm from overtaking him. The cum in his nuts boiled up and exploded inside me as I held him tightly to my body.
We pulled the blanket over us still vibrating from the sweet essence of our lovemaking. I was in haven of romance and intimacy, one that we had created with our own mind and hands. My independence wasn’t threatening but I realized that was indicative of my own growth as woman and as a human being. I gave myself a passing grade on my life test and went on about my life feeling empowered
