… tango in the night?

 “Do you ever feel that you’re trying hard to come first without realising that it’s someone else’s race?” he asked me as we drove in the early hours of the morning. It had started to rain again outside and in the silence of the pelting rain against the windscreen I didn’t have any answers only more questions. Questions he seems to pre-empt with the insight that he has gained over the years into my eunuch heart and the searching soul that governs it. For the first time in my 30-something years of searching I found out what it is like to be loved and lost all in the same afternoon. I made him say the words that had remained unspoken for so long. I had to know that what we had wasn’t lost.

 And while the realisation that it gives me no small comfort, the confidence inside that I gained on hearing his words ‘I loved you’ had allowed me emerge back into the world sufficiently to start accepting the friendly invites for coffee again from random, yet handsome, strangers. Usually coffee or dinner ends in good, but unmemorable sex and the pretence of something more is left in the morning along with the trash at the gate. But every now and again, I find myself speeding along life and hit a pothole of memories that reminds me that it wasn’t that long again and that I should slow everything down.

 As I sat on one of the steamer deck-chairs looking up at the dawn breaking on the table shaped mountain, wrapped in a cashmere blanket I got to thinking about the ‘X’ factor. In mathematics we learn that ‘X’ stands for the unknown: A + B = X. But what really is unknown is what plus what equal’s friendship with an ex? Is this an unsolvable equation or is it possible to transform a once passionate love into something that fits nice and easy onto the friendship shelf? As I move into waters unchartered and baring dragons, I couldn’t help but wonder can you be friends with an ex?

 Having touched the veil some years before, it’s been 8-months since we have realised that destiny seems to govern the random events in our lives and that we’d found each other again. I won’t pretend in that first meeting as we sat secluded on a park bench near his office that it was love at first sight. Love came later between us. Between the moonlight and the day dreams and the unconditional sharing of hopes; the fear of knowing and the unknown which kept us stimulated along with the physical and primal expressions of our nature.

 In moments of apparent blasphemous exploration I question why now? Why, when some months ago overwhelmed I fell to my knees as if struck to prayer, but in truth merely deaf and dumb in the realisation that what I wanted more was to find someone who loved me wholly and without reserve. And there, prostrating to no particular deity I cried out as my eunuch heart shattered once again and the memories of a failed love pierced my corporeal body like shrapnel. Wracking sobs lost in the vastness of the desert as my mouth fills with rivulets of arid loam that choked the senses.

 And yet I found an answer to my prayer in him. He who I can no longer call my lover, yet know that he loved me once. And that is enough for the friendship that sustains us through the waxing moonlight that we no longer share under cotton sheets but touch in the daylight before G’d.

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