“I could lie here and hold you all weekend, listen to you moan over and over, and then just lie here and hold you until they send the dogs in to find us,” Lucas whispered as I nestled my face into his sweaty neck. Both of us inhaling each other and exhaling our history in perfect syncopation.
I clearly have a hard time staying away from this man, but I’m no longer fighting it. When we merge, we merge. When we part, we part. The parting is never for too long. All our circles and triangles keep us coming back for more. We’re in an endless game of chess, Lucas and I. I know when to let him win, and he knows when to let me lose.
“We’re not ever going to have any closure are we?” I asked him.
“Fuck closure,” he said. ”Why are you always trying to end things before they happen?”
It’s funny he should ask that question because I’ve been wondering the same thing for the last 30 years. Lucas and I can’t be together. We tried once. Well, I tried once while he pretended to try. And now… now I just enjoy the time we spend together when we’re in the moment. I used to view this time as a crutch, like it was holding me back from meeting my one true love — whatever the hell that means. But now I see my time with Lucas as a sweet surrender to the two of us helping each other heal from old war wounds, the secret ones that are revealed when we try to hide them most.
But I do often end things before they happen. Since the last time I wrote in this diary, I’ve met Randy (the teen flick) and Kelley (Mr. New). Randy is undeniably beautiful, talented and conflicted. I suppose most men who are about to have a baby with someone they’re not in love with are. We’ve gone out twice, and we’ve shared a lot. I want nothing more than to enjoy his company, as I’m not looking for anything serious. I should stay away, but something compels me to continue the game. It’s like I need to help him through his conflict, in order to help myself get over something I’m holding onto (or something). We’re like a couple of teenagers when we’re together. He reminds me that I’m still innocent, even though there’s nothing innocent about our relationship.
I was already feeling brand new the night I met Kelley, Mr. New. Elegant sparks danced in the fireplace of that dark sexy swanky downtown speakeasy, where we shared our first mojito. Kelley’s an engineer like my dad and an artist like so many of my loves. He’s vibrant and high octane like Christian, the Golden Boy. I haven’t found anything wrong with him yet, which always makes me suspicious. We’re having dinner this week. I’m going to try to not end something before it happens, which means I need to stop looking for “wrong” things about him. Wish me luck.
But until then, I’m in Lucas’s arms. While sitting underneath the stars on the beach last night, he stroked my collar bone and kissed my ear. Our friends, who don’t approve of us being in such close proximity, were off in the distance dancing under the moon to the music of an ethereal ghost.
“So what’s next?” he asked as the ghost crooned “oh la la.” ”Are we gonna close this deal?”
“Nah. Fuck closure.”