I wish you were here now. It was only yesterday that you were.

But now, you are gone, probably forever.

I swore off men less than a week ago, so I did not pay much attention when you and your friend pulled up to the massage place. He came in and went to the bathroom. You sat down beside me, but I just kept reading my book. I heard the two of you talking, I think in French.

Then you leaned over.

“Excuse me, can you tell me about that?” You pointed at my e-reader. I did. I love my e-reader, so it was an easy conversation. You had a slight accent, but not French. You looked at me intensely, but I didn’t think too much of it—eye contact is more normal here than most places.

We chatted about reading and travel and life. You said you had been doing a lot of travel in the past, but were now back in a “development phase,” working on a new project of some sort and were only travelling for a month this time. We talked about both being control freaks. You challenged me when I said I only need to control myself. You suggested that by controlling myself, I do control the people around me. I will have to think more about that.

Then massage time. I tried not to let my mind go off on flights of fancy about you. I wanted to think you would leave your number or something at the desk if you left before me, but I had literally just sworn off men a few days before, so shut up brain. And deliciously distracted by massage—all good…

When I came out, you were standing right there. With your shirt off. The girls were telling you needed more massage. You said that you fly out tomorrow. I paid for my massage and you briefly squeezed my shoulder, asking if I had enjoyed it.

You asked for a hug. Not unusual in Ubud. Long hugs, with big sighs are both the norm and a cliché here.

We hugged. It was long.

Then longer.

And still, we didn’t let go. You were almost purring in my ear, your out-breaths rumbling sighs that I could feel in your body.

I moved my head, so instead of having my head on your shoulder, I turned into to your neck. And still, we didn’t let go. Hands moved—I held your shoulders, your arm, and then your waist.

You caressed my spine down to my butt.

You whispered, “I want to make love to you, right now.” I said something inane about the massage ladies not appreciating that. I don’t remember exactly what you said next, but I think it was something like do I live close.

I said yes and we left.

“I will follow you” was all you said. And you did.

I have no idea if you thought I was leading you astray down the dark footpath next to the forest, but you followed.

At my front gate, we kissed. It was deep and felt a little bit wild. You followed me in and as soon as we were alone, you grabbed me and kissed me again. Definitely wild. Your shirt, my shirt, then you pushed me back to the bed.

Most of after that is a sweaty blur. But I remember that you kept looking at me. That intense golden brown stare as we kissed, touched, fucked. Our energies danced too. I have danced with the energy of the universe quite a lot, but never with someone else like that. Never in call and response. You would touch my spine and my whole body would shudder. Strangely, I felt the most real I have ever felt with another person.

It was hard, it was soft, it was intense and it was gentle. A true yin and yang, Shiva and Shakti. You asked me to hold you tightly and I did. You held me in return.

You told me I was beautiful. I said you were amazing.

And we were.

There never seemed to be anything strange or uncomfortable in our connection. It just was. We were both completely there, in that moment, no stories, no agenda. Two whole and complete people, connecting and dancing in the sacred union.

And it ended. You got up, asking me if I was any good at directions. I thought I knew where you were going, so I offered to guide you. I gave you the choice of the safe ride through town or the secret back roads. You chose the back roads and soon we were off again. After a few wrong turns, we found where you were going.

You kissed me and wished me well on my journey of life, then I got back on my scooter and I rode away.

I don’t know who you were, or who you are. I don’t know where you come from or where you are now.

I just wish you were still here.

 

 

 

Author: T. Anderson

Editor: Renée Picard

Image: t.germeau/Flickr