A Bit Slow On the Uptake

I finally figured it out. All this time, I've been expecting you to be the person you were when I met you, but you're not anymore. Even when I finally realized that you'd changed with the dissolution of your marriage, I kept waiting for you to change back. I didn't know that your ex took some crucial part of your heart with him and you might never get it back.

On the surface, you still look the same. Oh, you're a little bit older, a little bit greyer, a little bit harder, a few more wrinkles around your eyes. But you still have love in your life. You still party and play the field and write about desire as if nothing has changed... but it has.

When we met, you didn't wear a mask over your emotions. You reached for me joyfully, your hand grasping mine across the table, your eyes seeking contact. You pulled my body to you, invited me inside, offered up your desire until I wanted to crawl right inside you because I just couldn't get close enough no matter what I did.

Then things fell apart. He didn't want you anymore, and then you didn't want him either, and that part of you that had reached for me closed up like a big fist squeezing your heart shut. You said you didn't want to bottom anymore, and I didn't know that meant you would become stone cold and remote. You kept on saying all the right things. You said you wanted to play with me. You said you wanted to make love to me. As you insisted that you didn't want to bottom, and I began to want to explore bottoming myself, you seemed like the safest, most reasonable person for me to come to... and you said yes, you would love to top me, and top me you did.

After it all came crashing down, I couldn't figure out what was wrong. I couldn't figure out why I felt so distrustful, why I needed to hold my heart back, why I felt so rejected even as you were telling me with your words that you wanted me, you wanted to spend time with me, you wanted to play with me. In time, you even told me that you loved me. And yet... it's been over three years, and I haven't been able to play with you.

I finally understand. The part of you that used to show your desire in physical ways is gone. I don't know if your ex took it with him or if it's still inside you, curled up in a little ball and protected by layers and layers of armor... but I haven't seen it since you left him. You don't reach for me anymore. You don't seek out my eyes with yours as you once did. You don't show any sign of arousal or desire around me, even when you touch me. You take my hand when I offer it... you hold me when I come to you... but you don't offer yourself to me at all. You barely even call me, even though you tell me over and over that I can call you any time of the day or night and you're always happy to hear my voice. Being with you is like being alone.

Offering you my desire makes me feel ashamed. No matter how many times you tell me it's OK to ask you for things or to tell you that I want things, I feel like that's a lie. I feel like a creepy clueless girl with no boundaries, throwing herself at someone who doesn't want her.

I miss your passion. I miss your desire. I miss your reaching out to me. I don't know if those things are gone forever or perhaps just gone from me, but I can't keep handing you my desire and watching it disappear into the black hole where your heart used to be. I've got to stop.