elevator doors

Rene came over late late Saturday night, after work. I opened the door, drowsy and taciturn. He was so happy to see me. He kissed me on the cheek sweetly and his smile was so large and his eyes were shining like black moons in a hot-white sky. The contrasts in our moods hurt me because I couldn’t help the way I was feeling. I just couldn’t pretend that I was still attracted to and happy with this man.

We’ve been so disconnected lately. We’ve both sensed it and we talked about it some earlier in the week, on Wednesday. He was so open-hearted about the conversation. I told him that I was feeling unchallenged mentally/intellectually by our relationship, and that we needed to cultivate our dialogue with the same verve we’ve been using to cultivate our bedroom life, or else the bedroom life will dwindle down into dust.

After all of this, he came to my door on Saturday night with only positive energy and lush affection. All that he’s brought to this entire relationship was positive vibes. God, I wish that were enough.

I used to drink from this man’s kiss. Treated his lips, his body like borrowed time. This night, I felt disgusted kissing him. Literally, when he started to kiss me, my upper lip started itching like I was allergic to something. His tongue no longer felt like a tongue, but a slimy underground creature finding its way into my reluctant mouth. I’ve never felt this before. I hated the smell of his breath, his hands. I couldn’t even look at him. I couldn’t believe this. He’s done nothing wrong! How could attraction turn off like unpaid tap water, like a molested switch? How could such extreme pleasure turn into such extreme disgust? That night, as he grunted, I thought of all the women trapped in rotting marriages, laying under men they could no longer stand, mind elsewhere, eyes closed. For once in my life, I was all these women, and it scared the hell out of me, that this could be possible for someone’s life for 30+ years.

Afterwards, I couldn’t even cuddle. I turned away from him and he caressed and kissed my back, like a man in love. It took me a long time to fall asleep that night. I woke up well before him. I checked e-mail, read 50 pages of DaVinci Code. I made my bed, went downstairs to watch tv. Usually, I would jump on his sleeping body mid-dream and tear off his blankets and use my body as a substitute. Today, that wasn’t even an option. Later on, he came downstairs with a perplexed look on his face. I had tea and bagels waiting for him. He drank the tea but refused to eat. I knew I was hurting him but I just couldn’t find the words.

He spent all day here, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. He tried to kiss me, cuddle with me. He took a shower with me, washed my body. Just hurt love in his eyes. I remained friendly, but distant and unaffectionate. I hated myself. I felt him starting to give up, felt him slipping away. He put on his pants, his shoes. Before he left, I made him eat. I know the food tasted like ash in his mouth. I couldn’t let him leave and not resolve this. I asked him to sit down next to me. “Let’s talk,” I said.

I apologized for being so distant and weird and I told him that I was bored with our relationship. Again, he listened. We had some dialogue. Then, I told him that I couldn’t stand the smoke—the smoke of his breath and the smoke on his hands that linger between us even after he’s brushed his mouth and washed his hands. I told him that I couldn’t deal with it; that I found it very unattractive. There was not much to say after that. He said that he was going to give me my space and stop coming around. We hugged for a long time. He kissed me all over my face and told me that I’m one of the most unique, beautiful and honest women that he’d ever known and that nothing will change that. No hard feelings.

Before he left, he apologized that he had nothing to give me. If only he knew how wrong he was. I was the one with nothing to give him. He also left his door open for a reconciliation sometime in the future. He said that after me, he doesn’t think he’ll be interested in anyone else anytime soon, so I can call him whenever I need a friend, need someone to hold. I couldn’t stop crying. He remained strong, but I know he was so hurt.

I walked him to the door and as usual, I watched him walk to the elevator. Usually, he would push the button, turn around and kiss me until the elevator came. This time, he walked, pushed the button and the elevator opened right away. He walked in the elevator and didn’t look back. I closed the door, knowing that I did the right thing for both of us.