The Aftershocks of a Short Affair

I followed Rob to the end of our 30-day affair; my guts told me to do it.  Initially,  I thought he would give me great sex:  He seemed to breathe magnetism into all his sentences (we met on an online dating site and only got as far as texting, chatting and a couple phone calls): “Babe, what would you do if we were dancing slow and my cock became engorged and painful from throbbing in my pants?”  Somewhere, deep in my heart, I knew if I stayed I would eventually break his heart, and he sensed it. He was wise beyond his 31 years and knew I wasn’t into the marriage with two kids and living in the suburbs he proposed in his rhetorical questions, even though I never refused anything he said.   Anyway, I’d already done the “marriage, kids and husband in the burb” thing, but maybe, if I fell crazy in love, I would once again attempt what was once a very difficult experience in my life. (Strange how all the American men I’ve met online seem to want to ring my intentions out of me - right away - wanting to know if it’s marriage I seek. They have been such bores!

But Rob was exciting and charged ahead with his pursuit of me as if his dreams of love could be manifested by raw enthusiasm.  Stranger still, I never saw his picture, just tapped into his desire for me, so I stayed for a while, even though I quickly realized he would be too immature in a relationship, as he tested me with his control and possessive streaks by checking when I went online -  as if that mattered, as if there was anyone else with his drive or unadulterated joy, of which I constantly reassured him. I remembered being his age and wanting guarantees about even the smallest gestures I made in love; thinking I knew what it all meant or where it would all lead, even though I did not have slightest hint of its possibilities. Eventually, we failed each other’s tests: Mine, the test of resiliency and a lover’s return, no matter what; his, the test of heeding to a man, regardless of his inane demands. Funny, I would have eventually heeded to him if he persisted because I give in to powerful men once I feel they’ve earned it.

 But Rob’s lessons went much deeper than tests. The power of his love wrapped me in dimensions of sixth sense knowing.  Not only could I sense him in my heart but I also now understood the intentions of past lovers, like Finn, the Dane who said it “felt right with me - at the moment," as a reminder that it could never be long term with us because I wasn’t Danish, white and blue- eyed, and in his country ethnicity was a religion, and no extenuating factors – not even great love – could tear into the fabric of a society that lived by the motto of one for all and all for one.  I now understood why Finn had to go, even though I once deeply resented him for it, and further realized that even if I grew to love Rob with all my heart and soul, I could never stay and repeat a chapter of my life – kids, suburbs - I once found grueling.  

Then there was also my understanding of Fabiano, the tall, beautiful Brazilian who wanted me to me to return his affections and let him in closer, but I couldn’t because he bored me with his talk of his mustang and his muscle tee-shirts, and I wanted him out of my bed after we had sex. When Rob asked what I needed to have a great orgasm, I realized instantly it wasn’t so much love I needed to feel but a respect for the intellect and instinct of a lover.

So, Rob - who sometimes spoke to me in French because he loved Paris and picked up the language in his youth - merci and au revoir. May you get what you want in love and eventually learn to let it all go because that is when the real, magical journey begins.