She should wait on the steps...not even mine.

A day I'll never forget. Rarely-no, never- do I come home, or have come home to see a brown paper bag and a small cooler sitting by my doorstep, full of small baggies of healthy snacks, and other good foods. She knew when I would be home, and I knew she was going to go drinking tonight. I also knew that as touched as I was at the love she filled that bag and cooler with, as much love as I had for this untouchable woman, I had to find the emotional strength to tell her goodbye.

Since last night my stomach has ached. All day keeping company with a headache I carry in my neck that has been my bothersome buddy for almost a month. My therapist told me that my body is trying to tell me something.

I know. It's telling me the same thing my heart has been since I met her. That she is not mine, and to leave her be no matter how painful it is.


Why do you do it? Why don't you set boundaries?


Because I'm a fool. Because I love her.


So after therapy, after I came home and choked my heart back into my chest, and willed my tears from falling I laid on my creaky sofa to lose myself in a book or a movie. The AC hummed and cooled me. I looked awful tonight, I have for sometime now, but I'd be a liar if I said I looked as bad as I felt. I felt, and still feel ill. Love sick, guilty, and ashamed that I couldn't say no. Ashamed that I let my desires take control of my morality and judgement. I still haven't shaved, though I did shower. Even that was taxing. I wanted so bad to cry where it would be concealed, but I couldn't. I had nothing left, not even sorrow, and the Zoloft induced plateau made even these feelings of remorse and deep sadness remarkable.

So when she knocked on my door, every muscle I have tensed and told me to keep the door closed. I don't remember getting off the couch or unlocking the deadbolt or opening the door or letting her in. All I remember is holding as close as I could, breathing her in as I kissed her.

Why are you here? We can't keep doing this.


I can't stand being away from you...


You are drunk, oh my god how did you get away?


It's a long story.


We kissed, and she made my skin dissolve behind her caressing fingertips while they moved across my arms and shoulders. Why can't I say no to her, as much as I want? As much as I know the best thing for both of us is for her to work on her family, to repair the broken bonds of trust, love, and intimacy? I knew why I felt so jealous of what I hate wanting to bid farewell. It was her.

But she is not mine, and I owe it to her and her family I hurt by our affair. To her husband whom I've never met and who wants me dead, and of whom I've only heard great things about from everyone that met him. To myself, for allowing myself to get hurt KNOWING I would.

I want love. I want to give myself to a woman and have it returned. Loved in spite of love, in spite of how perfectly flawed we are as humans and loved so passionately that forever is nothing more than a verbal placeholder for an expression so powerful there is no word for it. I want to share my life and be understood, be appreciated, trusted and desired. I had all of those things before, but it wasn't "right" in my heart.

So as I told her she should go, she was angry, and embarrassed. She drove away and I think that may be the last time I see her in the arrangement we had with each other. But not before she pulled my hand and asked me to stay with her. As I said, I can't cry despite how badly I want to. I'm going to miss her so much and want with all of my heart for her and her family to mend beyond the first loving bonds. And I want that for me, too. Time will tell, I'm just a fool with no self esteem. I am working to fix those both, but for now I have to sleep away (try) this short lived summer love.