Just For A Moment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Real life is always sadder than fiction. Would appreciate any grammar help I oversaw.

Submitted: May 29, 2019

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Submitted: May 29, 2019

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A A A



I find myself in a dimly lit hotel room but not with a stranger anymore.

 

I just wanted to be wanted again.

 

It has been too long. Too quiet for my taste. He tells me I do it better than her.

 

I smile,” Of course.” I pull my dress up higher, knowing there is no going back at this point.

 

He does it all too right. All the classics. All the things I’ve been missing.

 

“You can’t fall in love with me,” I remind him, knowing damn well I was saying that for both of us.

 

“I won’t. But I know why the the others do,” he smirks while pouring himself a celebratory drink. .

 

I crawl out of the bed, sort myself out, pull the hair back from my face, and quickly fall into him. I wanted more. I knew this had a timestamp and I knew I didn’t want to leave. I was craving every second in this hotel room.

 

But the sun will come and I’ll wake up in another bed. Affairs are a tricky thing. We try to create these boundaries, these walls, these false promises. I have to constantly remind myself that I only feel this way because everything is shiny and new. In any other mind frame, who knows what I would be capable of doing.

 

“I’ve told you this already, but it’s always good to be reminded,” I plea,” Even if the circumstances were different - It would never work with us.”

 

He nods, knowing at this point, agreeing is the only option on the table.

 

I crawl into his lap, kiss his face, and stare out to the window - glittered in the lights of this city.

 

It’s a struggle when I know I can’t touch him outside of this room. It’s a real hell to know I can’t share my feelings about him to anyone but himself.

 

Affairs are for the egos. Two grown ass adults over touching and over romanticizing their actions. Constantly reminding each other about the voids they are filling. If you ever feel down about yourself, find someone who is taken. They’ll always build you back up because they know they can’t do much else.

 

“I know you hate boxes, but you’re my girlfriend - I just can’t tell anyone else that.”

 

This is where the snowball effect happens. In one second I’m the girlfriend no one knows about, but within minutes, I am all you can think about. All that you want. You can’t call me enough, I can’t say no. I want everything I can get from you because I know I’ll never have it all.

 

When I leave him before dawn, I demand a kiss and find my way to the elevator. The hotel elevators are always a mirroring example of my life. The door closes, we grab each other, hands, face, we don’t let go. Seconds before the door opens, I slide myself a foot away. Purse at my belly, face with a slight thrilled smile. The strangers joining us have no idea who we are or what we are. And neither do we.

 

When I wake up the next morning, I am guilt ridden with heartsick for something I know I can’t have. He quicklys reminds me he’ll be back soon. That he needs more of me. He pleases me with all those remarks, not leaving me to be the vulnerable one displaying emotions.

 

This is when the struggle begins. I can’t look at my husband without feeling someone else's hands up my skirt. The guilt. The lies. The truth. It all creates an utter sadness. I run to my phone for relief, for the other guy to remind me why I’m so great at my worst.

 

This is the vicious cycle I’ve created for myself now. I don’t have the balls to deal with the problems in my reality. Now I rely on this other person to get me through the day. To remind me I am worth everything I am questioning.

 

The webs we weave.

 

Once he’s left my city, the feelings just seem to extend. I know I can’t have more than I want and I know I want it all. Between texts, calls, cryptic messages so we don’t tell each other how much we really miss one another - it’s a lot to take in.

 

“I’m impatient. It’s my worst quality,” I remind him.

 

“I’ll be back. I’ll come see you every 2 weeks. This is going to work,” he promises.

 

Then I just yearn it. I’m in big trouble. Over my head. Playing with fire.

 

I count down the days with excitement and with dread. I find on most days that his flattery is the only thing carrying me throughout. Then this is where I wait. I countdown the days like a child.

 

Then we are back in another hotel bed, staring at each other, pretending this is just simple fun. Not love. Just lust.

 

“Just be still,” he’ll whisper,” Then it won’t go so fast.” He pushes the hair from my face, kisses my forehead, and it feels like time could stop. But it doesn’t. Reality is just lingering around the around.

 

I would like to tell you what happens next, but I simply cannot because as of right now, I am writing this while he sleeps a few feet from me. I take small glances remembering it’ll be another two weeks until I see him again.

 

When he wakes, he’ll walk me back down to the lobby and I’ll disappear into a crowd until next time. Back to our regular lives we will go.

 

Back to pretending that none of this means anything, to anyone, to not even ourselves.

 



© Copyright 2020 Shenelle. All rights reserved.

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