5:29 p.m. | 2005-04-15
I'm Breathing, but Nothing but Cool Air
I found myself staring in the mirror.
Standing straight and sucking my stomach in lightly I took note of everything I had done. My undergarments, black and lace. My shoes, a nice black strapped heel. My jeans, the nice straight legged ones that make me look tall and thin. My shirt, new and teal which offsets my newly brunette head beautifully. My lip gloss, sexy and soft to invite anyone to touch. My eye shadow, the same teal as my shirt. My eyeliner, thick and proud, just how I know he likes it. My hair, docile and partially tied back and soft enough to make any woman jealous.
I haven't slept with Gabe and I don't intend on sleeping with him. Yet every time we plan an evening I find myself dressing up to impress him. I find myself picking out things I know he'd like and putting on my makeup the way I know he goes weak at the knees for. I don't expect him to react (the gentleman he is) except to later crumble to a bit of temptation. I don't expect to catch him staring at my chest or watching my eyelashes bat. I will talk with my lips, how I show my most seductive side, and he will pretend he saw nothing. He will not act weak or affected at all.
So I go back to why I'm doing this.
My breasts are pressed together in this black contraption because they jiggle when I walk and he likes that. My jeans are tight fitted in the back and a little low because he loves to see my hips sway side to side. My lips are plump and my legs are shaved and it's all just to say no. I put on my best face and paint my entire body the best it can be just so when the moment comes I can say no. Because I want to wave that flag in his face of, 'boy, you could have had all this.'
In that moment saying no feels so good. In that small second where he feels let down and upset, I feel fabulous. Because he let me go and there is no way I'm going back to him. I will not fall for his seduction, his lies, his ways of making me melt. I've done it too many times before and now I have the upper hand. And then I think, 'just like he did...'
He had me in the palm of his hand once. Listening to everything he said, doing everything he wanted, making his every wish come true. How could I, the better one of us, be doing this to him. How could I, the one who was supposed to take the higher path, be smashing his confidence to the ground.
'Cause then I'm sure he's thinking, 'if I can't even get her, what are my chances of having anything ever again...' and suddenly I feel terrible for what I've done. I wish I had never painted my lids and squeezed into those jeans. I want to call him and confess to what a terrible person I am and how horrible I was to do that to him and that, given any other circumstances I would have said yes. I want to call him back and tell him that I love him, I just can be in love with him.
It was then, as we were about to walk out the door to dinner that I paused and looked at him. I put my purse on the counter and said, "hold on a second, I need to change." He mused at my behavior as I ran off to my bedroom quickly. I emerged wearing my favorite ratty jeans, a cool t-shirt from a band and some flip flops. I grabbed his hand and kissed his cheek and said, "sorry for the facade."
He shrugged and kept walking, grabbing my arm as he did.
I'll never know if we had went out that night if he would have made a move. I'll never know if I would have said no. I'll never no if he would be pushed over the edge by this single event. All I do know is that my intentions behind it were wrong. Whether or not I went through with the act is irrelevant--my motives and thoughts behind it were dead wrong.
