The first time I saw her, I knew I could not resist her seductive force.

She stood alone, high on life, strong and poised, ready to brave the worst and the best that came her way.  Fiercely independent, she seemed to need no one, yet her invitation beckoned even the most jaded audience.

I moved slowly, hesitantly.  I could not believe this was my truth.  I already had one relationship that was loving and comforted my heat – how could I possibly deserve another? And how would I feel on that first morning after, when reality slams into my brain?  And what if they both needed me at the same time?  Was this fair?

Yet one foot followed the other, and head made room for heart, and soon I stood before her, weak in the soul.  I wanted her.  I had to have her.

I knew what she could bring to me – glorious sunsets, reckless nights, passing storms, songs I had never heard, and a star-filled existence.  My trepidation turned to full on lust and as she receded slightly, my intentions only became stronger.

Most people, once or twice in their lives, experience an illicit affair, even if only by wishes. Passions may not culminate, but the heart is stolen nonetheless by the imagination and possibilities.  If we are lucky, these affairs fuel our creativity and we produce our best art.  Muses are useful things, if only we can get over our puritan upbringing and permit ourselves to love humanity at its most raw and vigorous level.

So I brushed aside reason, and conjured more energy for my aim.

I didn’t sleep that night of my resolve, the wonder of it all just too intense.  I liked this feeling of being two persons in one.  Fractured, I felt whole.

The sun always rises, and when it did on that day of reconciliation, I was ready to explain myself to anyone who challenged my desires.  I was ready to proceed with this new splintered lifestyle.  Things which are just out of reach have fascinated me.  How close can one get before something is had?

Restraint can be a powerful platform from which we can move toward a cornucopia of good things.  As I laid down my final offer, vulnerable and pushing aside my fear, she seemed mine, for one hour.

Yet, the heart knows no boundaries and cannot play director for very long.  When word reached me that she had returned to her lover, I was stunned.  Had I waited too long?  Am I nothing but a catalyst for someone else’s reconciliation?

I sauntered around that day, and the next.  And yes, the next.  I almost had her.  If only I had…

She will live on in my soul, as a litmus test against others.  I don’t know if I will ever find myself in this same position.  I only hope my memory of her will fade.

As I retreat back home, I see my steady lover in a new light.  She knew I had wandered, yet here she was, with doors open and her soft breezy manner soliciting my hunger.

Once again, I was home safe.  But still so very hungry.

My almost lover

 

My steady lover

 

UPDATE TO THIS POST: After one year, the owners who had pulled out of the sale of “my mistress” responded to my love letter that I had sent them, and said they were at last emotionally ready to let her go. Here is a view from the kitchen window: