After the chase

February 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

I remember meeting Nicholas for the first time last year. We had a pre-start meeting in my office about a project he was working on.  I remember his boyish good looks, his relaxed nature, his scruffy hair.

I remember the last time I saw him in Perth last year; the way he swung his hips back and forth while he was leant over a table (very distracting).

When Nic came back to the city this year for another project, my interest in him resumed and ultimately culminated in a late, drunken Friday night, rolling around naked on a motel bed together.  The next morning, he hopped on a plane and flew across the country, back to his girlfriend, back to his home.  After he left, I discovered I have a hole inside me which I am now struggling to understand.

Before my husband let me go and see Nic we had a lengthy discussion about our marriage, our relationship, our love for each other.  We talked for days.  I knew in my heart that he didn’t really want me to go but that he was afraid of not giving me what I wanted.  I also knew in my heart that wanting Nic was not enough for me; I had to have him, I had to win him.  And if I’m really truly honest with myself, I think I knew in my heart that the problem had already arisen, Pandora’s box had already been opened and if Adam and I were going to suffer through so much of the aftermath already, then I may as well take what had and was going to continue to cause so much grief between us

I have hardly slept since Friday, since I got the chance to hold youth and beauty in my arms, in my palms.  I miss him and this unexpected feeling has rocked me to my core; it has gutted me, gutted my husband and both of us have been left lost and confused.  Before Nic, I was strong in the love for my marriage, the security of my relationship.  Being with him has not changed the love I bear for my husband but it has caused me to ask myself questions that I would never have dreamed of having to ask myself as long as I was married to Adam.

This writing is so scattered, like my head at the moment.

I feel like the walking dead; every conscious moment is spent trying to remember every little detail of him, of our too-short moments together.  Already the memories are starting to fade and my insides work furiously trying to retain the crispness of my images of him, to be locked away.

It’s been a long, long time since I have been with someone so young.  Age is something that has never seemed to affect me; I always sought the hardened embrace of much older men.  I can’t remember the last time I was with someone who was even within ten years of my age.  And so this becomes you; it makes you who you are.  You spend the better part of thirty years being a particular way, wanting a certain type of partner or relationship.  You think that this forms part of your identity and knowing yourself like this, knowing this part of yourself gives you the confidence that everyone else seems to love and value so much.  It’s this youth; more than anything, my adoration for Nic in his youth has shaken me immensely.  I think about his cheeky grin, the swagger of his hips, his language when he speaks, the stubble on his face and all I can think is that he’s just a boy.  He’s a kid, Melinda, he’s just a frigging kid, what are you thinking…

And yet in the next instant, another thought crosses my mind – the feel of his skin under my fingertips, under my thighs and legs and ankles and elbows.  The pale, creamy smooth skin of youth, something I have been without for a long, long time.  His fucking blue eyes, the sandy blonde of his long, long hair and how coarse it feels when I clench it in my fist.  The sharp angle of his jaw, the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, the adolescence of his slim hips, Christ, those hips.  Nuzzling his neck and breathing him in floors me and I search his eyes, looking for the answers, looking for the way to adore him and leave him, to possess him and forget him.  He avoids my stare but I crave and demand it, needing the comfort and danger of what his blueness holds.  I think of the way he breaths when he looks at me, trying to slow his heart down.  The way he calls my name as he cums.

I am going insane.  I’m going out of my mind and I cannot stand it.  This desire has left me lost.  He’s just a kid; he won’t even remember my name next week.  There will be another girl in another state after another job.  He will never think of me again.  He’s just a fucking kid.

Seducing Nic was easy for me – in part because I am very good at it and in part because he made it easy, or at least easier.  He was right about me; I am a smart woman, I use my head all day every day.  At work, I am at the top of my intellectual game and pushing myself to perform constantly.  At work, I influence others to get what I want, what I need.  At play, I observe everything, everyone, I read the environment, the situation, the person or people and then I use this knowledge to get what I want.  At play, I manipulate – I influence for bad.  I manipulate to get what I want, what I need.  And I’d be goddamned if I wasn’t going to have this boy so I did what it took to be able to press my naked body against his.

In theory, being with him was supposed to be about sex, just sex and nothing else.  I have a habit of viewing sex objectively, like a man if you will.  If an opportunity presents itself I would never say no, at least I would never want to say no.  Nic was different because I asked my husband for his permission first, before taking like I normally would or have before.  Plus I had to chase him, hard.

There’s a reason I have “Chase” tattooed on my body, in fact there are several reasons.  My life used to revolve around the chase, and fuck it was good fun.  I had a t-shirt that read “it’s all about me” and I thought it was great.  I lived like that for years and went through boyfriends like underwear.  Along the way, I realised that I was capable not only of catching a man but also keeping a man; I could make them fall in love with me.  So the game evolved and although I chased less often, once I had someone that wasn’t enough – I wanted them to love me too.  And they did eventually, and this too was great.  But after a period of time, I would leave them and start a new game.

My husband was the exception.  Adam was the ultimate catch, my El Dorado as I used to call him.  I chased him for eighteen months; it was the longest pursuit I had ever committed myself to.  And when I caught him, when he left his wife and broke up his family to be with me, I thought that I would never want to chase another man ever again.  This was it.  And so I married him.  I told myself and told him that I was committed for the rest of my life and I truly felt that way.  We knew that getting married wouldn’t prevent us from desiring others in the future and so before we took our vows at the altar we agreed that we weren’t the be all and end all for each other; there would be other people to have sex with but that would never detract from our love for each other.

I love my husband, deeply, and being with Nic has not changed that in the slightest.  But the intensity of my desire for this boy, even after the fact, has come from far left field, knocked me off my pedestal and left me breathless and questioning.  I cannot understand what I am feeling, why I am hurting.  I see questions but no answers.  My stomach knots and I need the blueness of his eyes for any peace.

Where does this leave me?  It leaves me four thousand kilometres away from this beautiful boy who won’t ever think twice about me.  It leaves me wanting in a marriage where I thought I would never want again.  It leaves me with a hole in my heart because I will never see Nic again and I feel like I cannot stand the thought of it.  It leaves me in love with one man and desiring another – which devastates one but is inconsequential to the other and confusing for me.  It leaves me feeling deeply, deeply selfish and so very, very hurt.  It leaves me wondering if I made the right choice by marrying Adam and then feeling sick just from thinking the question.  It leaves me questioning if I am destined to play games for the rest of my life and how much deeper “Chase” is ingrained in my body than just tattoo ink.  It leaves me wondering what sort of person I am and why this is the way I choose to live my life.


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