Something you said last time we met fell flat on my soul. I am not even sure whether it was one phrase, the setting, or the events of our meeting. The presence of my son intruded on our meeting, he phoned me several times needing something, as children do, this very second. I brushed him off as gently as I could saying that we will deal with it later. You made some offhand comments about this which did not bother me at the time. The feeling came after we parted. We exchanged a few messages and you had to delete them. Maybe the allusions were too strong this time, and again the mention of my son intruded.
I turned to my work, as you turned to yours with a quick message “got to go”, and soon a feeling of utter dejection came over me. Time passed and I had to drag myself to the gym, I missed the yoga class, which on this day I probably needed most. Instead, I forced myself up the treadmill, hammered my feet on the rubber in a dull and disheartened rhythm, without the usual uplifting music in my ears. I spent the whole session looking at the beady-eyed picture of the Hezbollah leader on a news channel. I only mildly registered my dislike to his person, and the falsehoods that flashed on the news banner quoted from his speech. In the end he was just an image I fixed onto, black turban, grey beard, and insincere eyes, it definitely added to my somber mood.
After a less than successful round on the circuit, I headed home. I had a tension headache and I lay on my bed. Struck with a wave of dejection and apathy. I kept thinking back trying to feel the source of my disappointment.
There was a lighthearted bet that you made with yourself that day, that if you accomplished something that evening on your first try you will be with me. Those weren’t the words you used, and at the time I did not cringe too much at the crude utterance, I even laughed at it sitting there bathed in the sunshine and heat of your eyes. It only felt stale later. I could have told you right then, that you will make it that evening, but not the first time. I somehow knew and never took you seriously. We always attach almost impossible conditions to the event that we both know is highly unlikely ever to happen.
Still, it felt so trivial and random to link our coming together to a sporting accomplishment, a game really, and to express it so crudely. I think you liked to picture me there cheering for you to make it on the first try, where in fact I could not care less of the outcome – although I expected it. When your message came telling me that I made it the 2nd time, it added to the insult I belatedly felt. You sounded so excited that you won your game, and if you only had me in the bargain it would have been even nicer. I felt like a supplement, a postscript to a gaming victory. I texted you that I was relieved you did not make it the first time and it was a sincere sentiment. For me it is not a tossup whether or not to sleep with you.
I constantly struggle with the monumental weight of wanting you, where I know I shouldn’t. And if ever I made the decision to surrender to this emotion and try to borrow you or steal you for a time from your life it will not come lightly. It would be a final gift, when my mind eventually surrenders and accepts that it failed in swaying my heart. It will be just the once, before we go our separate ways. We might meet again, as friends, but never as lovers.
The two halves of my Gemini soul are always at odds over you. Emotions and reason wage constant battle inside me, and they have only come to a temporary truce with our regular coffee meetings. My mind is trying to indulge the whims of my heart, but it still watches and bides its time and will never stop trying for a coup, a change of heart. While my eyes tell you how much my heart needs and misses you, my mind is the one that makes fun of your snobbish personality and crazy hobbies. It keeps looking for the ways we are so different. It also brings in calls of duty, my duty towards my son, and my principles to avoid hurting the woman you belong with.
Today my mind has scored a point, when my son and your wife featured strongly between us, along with that crude bet. The fingers of cold reality and reason have touched my intoxicated heart and the chill has spread into a disappointment. It is a small one, and my heart still trusts that the words were said only lightly, and in jest. However, the doubt has crept in, and my tricky mind will keep playing on it.
I have no control over who wins this battle between my heart and my mind, but the track record has always been in reason’s favour. Perhaps this is why my mind is quiet, silent and waiting its time, while my foolish heart still indulges in the distant hope that there is a first time for everything.