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Incomplete is complete

The Wet Body

What started with simple and casual friendship over the phone, turned into an intense attraction and grew over us with time. A progressive and ambitious man fell for my ‘independence’ and dreams and I found myself happy in his simplicity and rawness. Well! Independence in the sense that I was single at 38, left my job for my startup without any backup, I was living alone, wasn’t dependent financially, mentally and emotionally on anyone, especially men, and I came across as a rebel who was following her heart no matter what.

We finally met in a house party that I hosted at my place and it didn’t feel like we were meeting for the first time at all. He was so comfortable with others and I didn’t have to bother about him getting bored and all. He stayed till everyone left. Helped me clean the aftermath of the party. I thoroughly enjoyed his company. He gave me a hug sideways and right then looked into my eyes and asked if he could kiss me. I wasn’t prepared for this though but somehow couldn’t say no. That’s how it began. Like a gentleman, he took care of time and personal space. He held me like no one ever did. We stopped after a few long moments and he left saying, ‘I want to see you again Sweetheart.’ ‘Soon.’ I said. We met again and again and yet again. We had such amazing conversations. From relationships to our families to ambitions in life, progress, art, culture, and even politics. 

I remember we were once sharing about our families and his phone rang. It was one of his elder sisters. He picked up the call and in a fraction of second, he got up saying, ‘Ji Didi’. They talked for about 5 mins. He didn’t even move an inch till the time he was on call. His tone was way too polite than I had ever imagined. It was strange. He finished the call and sat down. To me, it felt like a police station scene where the inspector stood up to salute when the commissioner called, and the inspector could only speak ‘yes’, ‘sure’, ‘definitely’ and set down. I was about to say something, but he just hushed me saying he didn’t want to talk about it because he can’t explain it all. I understood he needed time and space. I just held him as he snuggled like a baby.

We always had things to do like we cooked and read books together. But the top on the chart was sex. The chemistry we had both physical and emotional was perfect. We could converse through our touches without a word. We could fuck each other’s brains through intellectual conversations. We were emotionally physical and physically emotional when we were into each other.

At least that’s what I felt. We both were workaholics and it didn’t bother us if we didn’t talk on the phone between our meetings. I felt this would last for we both were free from marriage commitment. All I asked for, was his time. The best part was, he was with me when he was with me. Undivided. But every time he was leaving, I didn’t know if I would see him again. There were long gaps between our meetings. Longest I remember was 3 months. And yet I grew fonder of his presence in my life, which was mushy and liberating but also was difficult to deal with. With each meeting, I started missing him more, whenever he wasn’t around. I ended up crying every time I orgasmed after masturbating, for orgasms reminded me of him and of us being together.

And that was disturbing. When I shared with him, he said, ‘You are thinking too much.’ Then he held me tight. After few moments of silence, he said, ‘‘I love you’ is great but ‘I care for you’ is dangerous.’’ Upon asking why he said that. He replied, ‘I really don’t understand why people attach love with so many other things. Why can’t people just love? Why care? Care is a liability. It suffocates me.’ That day I realized, for him, love exists in isolation. I also figured that perhaps he is burdened with too much family responsibilities and he just wants someone who lets him breath easy. And that day the lovemaking was even more intense. We both wanted to just love and express love through the act and nothing else mattered. For me, it reflected our bond. Our kisses, his possessive touches, hours of intense foreplay followed by passionate sex, everything became a part of us.

And yet I didn’t get to see him more often. One fine day when I called him after a long silence that felt like ignorance from him, he told me he shifted to his hometown. Well! This was a painful surprise. He did say it was circumstantial and he did want to tell me but didn’t get a chance. I believed him too and still it pained. Despite what we shared; I wasn’t in his priorities at all. That he didn’t even bother to inform. He said he will come to meet me. I waited for long. Then realized maybe he chose not to care, maybe I was just a refuge or maybe we needed to heal some broken parts of our being.

It was Love for me. I became little numb and more pragmatic after I decided to alter my path. I moved on and he never came back, but the passion and pleasure, the intellectual and emotional conversations, the intense love and the superb partnership in bed remained with me. The separation pained extremely bad for initial one year. But gradually I could forgive him and myself for not being there for each other anymore. It was complete in its incompleteness. Today whenever I think of him, I smile. Or should I say, I always think of him when I want to smile.

Intimacy is a skill.

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