I promised myself that I wouldn’t set aside my own comfort just to give in to that of others anymore. I’m not sure if the point in which that decision was made was a catalyst that started drawing those opportunities to the forefront like rapid-fire, ready to test my conviction, or if I simply became aware enough to notice them more often. Either way, it seems like multiple times I’m weighing my options, trying to decide if I need to lean into something, stand up for myself, use my voice, or if it’s one of those moments that doesn’t require the energy and will balance itself out on its own.
Sometimes, though, in the same way that people tell you not to mess with anything if you go back in time because it can have catastrophic effects and change life as we know it, I get afraid to make a decision that is going to change a moment. It’s almost like there’s a mix-up, briefly, where I find myself thinking everything is already played out and I’m just experiencing it. I’m still learning how to own the fact that I get to influence my future, not just watch it unfold.
Movies
It would be a lie to say that my favorite thing about being around you is how easily I get out of making decisions. I’m inclined to think it’s true that I could place it in the top 20, though. The best part is that you give me the time to make it until I inevitably give in and deflect it your way. It’s part of the reason I’m glad you kept the remote on your side of the couch. It makes me less worried that I’m going to have to pick a movie.
As the second movie ends, my stomach tightens as I watch your hand reach for the remote. At this point, any fear over picking a movie has left and I’m waiting to see if you’re going to say you have to go. I can’t even tell if I’m remembering to breathe as my eyes stay fixed on your hand, not daring to let them drift and check your expression. Please don’t go. It’s the biggest downside to the way we never actually plan anything or talk through what we’re going to do. I never know what to expect, what to prepare for.
When enough time has passed that I think I’m safe I let my gaze drift to the TV where I find you scrolling through movies again. “Hey, wait!” Oh fuck. This is it. Please don’t tell me you suddenly realized what time it is and you agreed to help someone with some weird shit again tomorrow and now you’re about to tell me you have to go. I won’t have the courage to beg you to stay but I’ll definitely be screaming inside if you’re about to go. “I believe it’s your turn to pick a movie!”, comes out playfully as the remote gets pointed in my direction.
I’m not sure if the sigh of relief that escaped as I reached for the remote was audible or if I played it off well enough with my teasing, “Oh fuck, no I definitely think I picked the last one!”, but I haven’t been this happy to buy myself two hours in a long time. As you put your arm around me and I let myself sink into you, I tell myself that I’m going to have to start speaking up with you. My mind drifts back to you telling me I’d be surprised what I could get if I’d just ask.
When my focus returns to the TV, I wonder how long I’ve been scrolling for and it pulls a nervous giggle to the surface. “Oh, and what was that one for?” Is it weird if I tell you it’s sexy when you ask that? I don’t know if it’s the face that goes along with it, the way your voice both deepens and soften as you say it or if it’s merely the fact that you’re paying attention and care enough to ask rather than assume. Whatever it is, I don’t think you understand just how bad it gets me every time.
“Oh shit, did you notice that? Yeah, no clue what that was for. It just kind of happened.”, I say playfully, followed by a lip-bite that you notice before I realize I’m doing it. Also in the top 20 is the way you let me get away with things like that. You don’t try to pry for what was behind it. Instead, as I’m closing my eyes trying to regain my composure I feel your lips press into mine stealing it right back from me. I’m still trying to learn how to kiss you back gently, so I don’t. I lean into you hard, my hand finds your side and I pull you into me as I kiss you eagerly.
When I’m finally composed enough to redirect my attention back to the TV, I pass enough titles that you chime in with a suggestion and I oblige. My willingness to go along with your suggestion is half fueled by the knowledge that I won’t be able to keep my attention off of you long enough to actually choose something and the rest is hinging on the fact that I would watch just about anything, with you. My recurring compliance is fueled, always, by the fact that the only thing I don’t want to do with you is hold back.
As I press play I sink back into your side, below your arm, and slowly relax into letting my head fall against your chest. I’m glad you said this is a movie I won’t have to focus too much on because my attention keeps jumping between your fingers tracing a line down my arm, what’s on the screen, and the rhythmic beat thumping in your chest, beneath my ear.
I find a subtle comfort in recognizing the way your breathing changes, slows, right before you fall asleep. This means I’ve heard it enough times to notice the pattern and that’s just the kind of consistency I like. It also means, though, that it’s buying me more time. I find comfort in it until I notice that the way I’m leaning is going to tie a knot in my back so tight that no amount of push and pull will wriggle it loose.
I consider waking you up and asking you if you want to go to bed. The term “calculated risk” dances its way into my mind and I consider the possibility that if I wake you up, you’ll have to go. I breathe in deep. It’s my way of calculating just how much discomfort will be in my spine when I get up. If my deep breath leads to a series of clicks in the top half of my thoracic spine, I usually move. Clicks come but I decide to lean in deeper and close my eyes. I’m just trying to buy myself a few more minutes, I swear.
I’m not sure which one of us jumps awake but I’m relieved when you ask if I want to go to bed and momentarily I tell myself the discomfort was worth it. When I wake up, one of the times, to your lips against my back and a breathy “Good morning” creeping along my skin, I wonder if I could have traded the discomfort for telling you what I wanted. I consider it, look at you, and can’t help but tug my bottom lip between my teeth and smile. I’m not sure I’m ready to start owning my wants through words. Right now, though, I just want to kiss you and I can absolutely do that without talking.
As you leave, I promise myself that I won’t let it go so long without speaking up that it feels impossible to start. Right now, though, I can’t help it if all of the words I’m sure I’m going to say get jumbled up in my head before disappearing. Give me some time, I’m straightening them out.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 