Memories to be Forgotten (Part 1)

Sometimes to erase memories, we have to start at the beginning. The issue is remembering everything from the start can hurt- I can already feel my chest tightening to hold the pieces of my heart together–
Is it worth ripping open these deep wounds to forget?

The starting point was the beginning of a fall semester, some years ago . I had just finished running up three flights of stairs to rush into my theater class . I was late and feeling anxious, it wasn't a new feeling for me- but despite my mental disarray, I noticed him . I suppose it would've been hard for me to be unaware of his presence considering his height-  compared to my petite frame, he towered over me . Secretly, I think  I liked that
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Although we sat near each other,  it was obvious he paid me no mind, so  I sought out to gain his attention. I was drawn to his laid back demeanor; he had always be so easy going.

Originally, I may have noticed him for his height, but my first observation was in his hands. He had long, masculine fingers- they were flawless. His nails were always well-kept, never too long and always clean. In spite of their utter beauty, his hands never looked feminine- maybe that was because his beautiful, masculine hands were connected to his beautiful, masculine wrists which were connected to his beautiful, masculine arms. Observing his beautiful hands, that was the start of my attraction to him.

Each class period, I’d seek him out- he was quickly becoming my addiction. I always wanted to be near him, to engage him, and to have him notice me. I found him on a social networking site and located his number – that day, I texted him. Our texts were playful and revolved around food; all the while I attempted to remain anonymous- he figured me out.

 We started spending more time together.  Classmates had asked if we were dating- I’d deny it, but if we weren't dating, then what were we?

I asked him to walk my dogs with me, I was sincerely afraid to walk alone, and he complied. During that walk, he did the most beautiful thing I had ever seen a man do- he got down on one knee and poured water into his cupped hand; he made a bowl for my dog. That night I talked to my mother about my feeling and she knew I had a crush, given my circumstance, she warned me to be careful.

My emotions only grew stronger and I began to desire more physical contact, more of his hugs- I was completely and utterly infatuated.

Autumn was ending and I was being torn apart inside. I was able to suppress the pain by focusing on my desire- him.

One night I called him after a dance  rehearsal- he drove to the school to pick me up and then took me to eat. His car had sentimental knickknacks. A cowardly lion sat on the dashboard and his graduation tassel dangled from the rear-view mirror. His car was loud for being a Pacer, but he was driving; his hands were on the wheel so I felt safe. That night he made me a small origami rose from scrap- he had such talented hands.

I learned we had a hobby in common,  we each enjoyed snowboarding. He went to the School’s snowboarding club with me to purchase my season pass. I was elated that there was a chance for us to spend more time together.

The snowboarding club was having a raffle at a local Grill; he drove us there and then to a store so he could make a purchase his upcoming project. He carried me to the car, through the parking lot; I can’t recall any other guy being able to carry me so securely. In his car, I curled up in my seat and day dreamed. Maybe he was beginning to like me, too.

It felt like all our teasing, wrestling, pushing, and pulling were foreplay and the moment he lifted me onto the hood of my car, I became unhinged. The heat spread over every surface of my body, it was the first time I had ever blushed that intensely. Every part of me was on fire and he was between my legs. The cold metal pressed against my back and his hands were on me, I was becoming dizzy. The threads of my control were fraying; I had to leave- I had to get away from him.

Later that week I confessed what that simple action had done to me, he seemed surprised that I was so easily embarrassed and all I wanted was for him to make me feel that embarrassed again. The memory still ignites a fire and causes a shiver. After that, I lost control.

I don’t recall when it happened, I just remember wanting to share myself with him- I wanted him to feel the heat that I felt; I wanted him to feel how much I burned for him.

It started in my truck with territorial marks; his hands were holding me while his teeth were scrapping against my skin, but he always had more self-control than I did. His neck had a glaring purple mark for a week. We joked that a flying doorknob had hit him, maybe because we liked feeling like the truth was our own private secret.

Later, a blazing gust overtook me; I was left straddling him- and apologizing. Perhaps I could have stopped myself from using him, but more than anything- I didn't want to. Every day I wanted more of him and my sanity couldn't say no anymore.

Truth be told, he was amazing- he set all my nerves on fire. It scared me. I became more torn than ever and I had made myself this way.

Up in the snow with friends, we were casual; but I’m sure everyone knew of our relationship. I couldn't keep myself from liking him more than I ever wanted to admit, so I pulled away. Deep down, while falling apart, I was a coward. The only proof of faith I could offer him was allowing him to be my only partner. My body was honest, it knew it wanted only him, but my mind was still sorting through its own conflict.

Time and time again, I’d wake up in his bed. I slept more peacefully there than I did in my own home because in his bed I could be honest, I could offer him all of me and accept everything he had to give. In his shower, I’d ask him questions and he was always so honest about everything- so why didn't he act like he wanted me more?

After Christmas, he took me to my favorite breakfast place; I’m surprised he had memorized my order- maybe that’s why I want to cry ?

When we were full,  we took the remains to-go and headed for his hometown. His town was smaller than mine, it was charming though. The house he grew up in was large; I always thought he was a little spoiled. It’s one of the reasons I was convincing myself to not be in love.

It rained on us while we were at the school, kicking one of his soccer balls; but that was okay because the scene was mesmerizing . Beyond the school were rolling hills layered in lush green grass- I took a photo of those hills and kept it.

While in town, he introduced me to his best friend, I watched them play pool. He was so tall and graceful, and always had beautiful hands. That evening he, his best friend, a companion, and I drove around through the night.

The next day he gave me a memory that still scorches my senses and leaves me feeling dazed.

He offered me a wonderful vacation from my own life, I was willing to promise him my world to satisfy him; too bad my reality was at home.