The Worst Part

5 Aug

I hate walking away.

I don’t  know how to do it. Do I act cool and strut down the steps? Do I sulk and pout my way to the car? How many times do I turn and wave?

I mean, when you have just spent some intimate time with a woman(anything from making out to sex to just opening up and baring your soul), how do you walk away from her front door? I hate that part.

I love walking TO a woman’s front door, with all that excitement building up inside, the anticipation of what is to come. What might happen. What you hope will happen. But when you are walking away, you know it’s over. Time to go home. Oh, you can still let your mind wander while you drive, thinking of her lips or the feel of her skin or that look in her eye when you grabbed her wrists and pushed her down.

It’s over by then. A memory.

For the moment at least. But, while you are walking down her front steps toward your car, trying to convey both awesomeness and sadness, you haven’t gotten to the memory part. You lips still tingle, her smell still lingers in your- how do you write ‘nose’ or ‘nasal cavity’ and make that sound sexy? Her scent still lingers, teasing you, pulling your thoughts back to when your face was buried in her neck.

And how do you stop kissing them at the door? How many lasts kisses are appropriate? No matter how cool you try to be, breaking away from a warm, soft, willing woman is kinda like saying ‘I have somewhere more important to be’. At least I hope they don’t think that. What does a woman think in a moment like that(or a guy, I don’t care)? Do you judge that one last kiss more than the others? Do you turn and fall against the door with a soft moan of regret that it stopped? Do you run off to text or email all your friends about how awkward it was? Do you peer out the window at us as we drive off, asking yourself what it means that we only stopped to wave once, not twice?

Gah, it’s awkward no matter what I do.

There is one small, silver lining to walking away: the possibility of coming back. Now I get to look forward to walking up to her front door again, savoring the anticipation.

I’m a guy, so when a girl walks away from my door I have it easy, I go make a sammich.


5 Responses to “The Worst Part”

  1. Kasini August 5, 2011 at 5:24 pm #

    this is why I like quick goodbys, like ripping a bandaid off. The goodby is inevitable, get it over with, turn up some music, go brush your teeth in the dark so you don’t have to look into your eyes and see memory there or waste time trying to guess about what the look on your face might have betrayed, crawl under the covers and sleep to dream. The better to nestle those memories into cozy boxes lined with velvet dark.

    • Myrddwn August 5, 2011 at 6:16 pm #

      What is it with you and little boxes? If something good happens to you you shove the memory into a tiny little box to be cherished, rather than just experiencing it, enjoying it, embracing it. It is almost as you fear losing anything good so much that you squirrel it away like, well, a squirrel.
      Or a magpie with something shiny…

  2. Kasini August 6, 2011 at 2:45 pm #

    and does this surprise you?

    • Myrddwn August 7, 2011 at 10:12 am #

      Not really.
      I’m just suggesting you should stop trying to avoid being happy.

      • Kasini August 7, 2011 at 2:16 pm #

        I will do my best

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