It sometimes seems that I have become the woman that gets the occasional call to go out for a good time, but not the girl they spend an entire weekend with cos they can’t get enough of me. My previous relationships (if you can call them that, allude to this).
I am good enough to strip naked and to have them want to lick my body until I go soft in their hands, but I always fall short of them wanting to give me their hearts. The promise of it just out of reach.
I have never just engaged in sex with random men and I have never had a one night stand.But that fact makes this that much worse.
Because these are men who I shared a friendship and intimacy with.These men know private details of my life and I know their deepest fears and hopes.
We didn’t just share sex—we shared our lives with each other.
But, I was never one who they wanted to share a meal with or the latest movie on a slow, Friday night.
No, I was the one who they would come to when they wanted to feel alive.
They came to me when they wanted their hearts to pound and their blood to pulse, reminding them of the amazing male fire that burns inside.
But the thing is—I am love.
And whether these men would ever admit it to themselves or not—that is precisely why they kept returning.
Even if these men never loved me—they became drunk off the love I offered them.
They could feel the love in my fingertips on their faces, tracing their lips and the way I would sit back, and gaze into their eyes—so open and willing for them to come and get me.
I made them feel loved when they forgot what love felt like.
I showed them writhing desire and the sensual touch of a woman.
But, the thing is, I can’t love when I am not being loved in return.
I can’t keep letting these men into my life—who have no desire to let me into their hearts.
That’s not to say that I don’t love them—because I do.
Differently, and in ways that can’t be compared, but in the end love is always just love.
But, I can’t keep being an option left simmering on the back burner when I deserve to be the main course.
This time I have to choose myself and loving myself.
The saddest fact is, I know that emotions throbbed underneath their fingertips and while the feelings of these men differed, I know that in their own way, each cared deeply about me.
And while I thought I had found my soulmate in one of them—it has to be a choice that both make, not just one.
Though I have smiled and cried over these men, suddenly one day, it became clear what I had to do.
Even though I am going to miss them deeply, I can no longer accept less than the love I deserve.
While it may seem foolish or naïve to some—I want incredible love.
I want someone to wake me up in the middle of the night because they just have to have me—but I also want someone to stare at the stars with and reminisce our childhoods.
I want someone to make my back arch, but also someone who will let me fall asleep against his chest.
And while it has pained me to start saying “no” to these men, it means that I am finally saying “yes” to myself.
As much as I love them and the time we have shared, I can’t keep being the reservoir they come to for a refill.
Because, in doing so, I have found myself almost empty.
Next time I let someone touch my body, it will be because they have already let me touch their heart.
And I won’t have to worry about what it all means, because I will already know.
I will be loved.
And while I know that loneliness is waiting just around the corner for me, I am going to try to be okay with that.
But, sometimes no matter what we wish for, it doesn’t create reality.