A Change Is Gonna Come

With that awareness in mind and my new black lacy underwear I had slipped on, I rang the doorbell of his apartment. He answered, the Sun flooding the living room. Normally our meetings were reserved for the cover of the night, it was strange to see him in this light. He is becoming dear to me. I am all sweaty, from walking in in summer heat, so he proposes we take a bath. I love the idea. We get in the tub together, all this light, feeling so exposed. He washes me, we talk, we laugh, yet something is missing. Maybe we are too familiar with each other. We get out of the water, he caresses my body, and it is responding but not as passionate as before. Is the magic between us only there in the dark? What if a huge part of it is the knowing of what we are doing is a forbidden act? Is the novelty of it wearing off? I cannot pinpoint it, but I know he feels it too. We do not talk about it, instead we make love. He has places to go to, I need to be going too, so we lie together for just a bit and I leave. Closing the door behind me, I feel as if something is over. Like we gave each other what we needed and it’s time to part now. The magnetic attraction that brought us together has been wearing off as a spell, but we were not willing to let it go until it completely disappeared. The dynamic has changed too… time will tell.


It’s so interesting how things evolve. Being with Damian has made me so much more confident in myself. Claiming my sexuality and accepting it as a vital part of me, having the ability to express it and feel it, has brought a whole new level of acceptance into my life. It has really made me think about the secret life of humans and how much remains hidden from plain sight. Do people cheat because they feel stuck in their lives? As if they are living on auto mode and they need a spark of fire to reignite their passion? Do we connect with another to get to know ourselves better? Are we hoping to discover our own missing pieces? I sometimes feel like I am a puzzle that has been scattered in millions directions and my life’s mission is to put myself back together. Clues are spread all over my path – in books, random things strangers say, places, narrow streets, movies, men… My imagination stringing them together and making sense of it all, weaving a tapestry of colors. 

I left without seeing him again. It’s a relatively short trip, only a month and a half long, a language immersion course for work. I sent him a text that I will be gone for a while, and he wouldn’t be able to reach me. Yet, he found a way. After two weeks, I got an email from him. He missed me, he admitted, terribly. I think it actually surprised him how much, so much so that he asked Lilly for my email to be able to tell me how special I was to him. We would never say it, but we both love each other in our own non-possessive way. I fell into deep from the very beginning, for he probed into parts of me where no one else had ever dared venture before. My sensual, sexual self, the prostitute archetype, the profane – so carefully masked by the good girl image I’ve been projecting out to the world. He allowed me to experience that side of Sara without  judgement, encouraging it to emerge and blossom for his eyes only (ok, not always ;-)). Shy and full of doubts at first, I trusted him to be my guide in this journey to myself, and we both reaped the benefits of the over zealous student that I was. However, now I was ready to go deeper and he was not in a place to offer that to me. Emotional attachment was not part of the agreement, even if we both were feeling it. It could never be.