Monday, August 17, 2015

'Casual' Relationships

We're together in his home.

He points to a house outside and says, "That's where I live." I'm confused and think - Oh, he has two homes. And, so close together??

I keep looking at the house outside. I notice the upstairs curtains are drawn open and wide. I imagine seeing someone come to the window. I imagine catching the person's silhouette. I imagine seeing a shadow, a glimpse of a person. I keep staring at it and then think to tell a joke by saying, "Oh, who's that woman standing at the window?" But, I don't. I don't dare...because a part of me is worried I already know the truth, that if I see a woman standing at that window, she must be his.

I understand myself in that moment. I understand a fundamental truth about myself. I don't want to ever be the 'other woman'.

He takes my hands and we both kneel down. I know what's coming next. I want but, not like this. It looks like we're in that space between the kitchen and living room. I instantly feel a disconnect, like he's playing a role, the same role he plays with every woman. I don't feel his heart. I see that he doesn't 'see' me. He only connects with my body but he fails to see that I can't connect with him unless he's connected to all of me. 

I immediately think - Oh no, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. I must go. I need to go. My integrity must remain intact. I will not give of myself so freely. He isn't worthy. I must have seen his smile a hundred times but here, it wreaks of meaninglessness. I can't engage. I'm trying to extract something more from his eyes, those hands...but, I can't. There's nothing to extract. I can't take what he isn't offering. I can't take what he's unwilling to give. I can't take what isn't there. I can't absorb. I can't process. I'm just a body. I'm only a body. I'm nothing more than this him - he, who seeks pleasure.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door and he looks at me. I smile back at him. He turns to answer it. I'm surprised. It dawns on me that I'm in my underwear. I try to conceal myself. It's a man and three children. They enter the home. I think - why wouldn't he want to protect me, conceal me or encourage me to go into another room so that I don't feel exposed? I see that he doesn't cherish me. But, he doesn't...he doesn't lift a finger to show me I'm worth something to him, which means I must not mean all that much. He doesn't value me. I try to enter another room through the hallway, discreetly. The man and three children walk past but they don't look at me. They don't even know that I'm there. I am invisible. 

I notice two boxes of tampons and pads on the floor by the wall. I wonder who they belong to. I pretend it doesn't bother me too see these tampons and pads.

The next thing I remember is being at a friend's home. It's a gathering. I notice some of the men from my neighborhood cafe sitting on one of the sofas. I see him sitting on the opposite sofa with a woman. I'm standing by a kitchen table. I look at him. He doesn't look at me. The woman he's with laughs. Her hair is up in a bun. She's beautiful. A couple comes to the kitchen table to greet me. I hadn't noticed they were there before. I continue to look over at him but he never looks my way. He pretends not to know me.

He doesn't have to pretend, though, does he? Truth is, he doesn't know me.