The practice of taking inventory is supposed to teach us about ourselves. I considered taking inventory of the books on my shelf and what each means to me. I thought about listing each job I’ve had and left and what I learned from each. But ultimately, today felt like a day to inventory something deeper. So here it is. My first inventory. Lovers past and present.
-A blue eyed bass player with long hair and a killer smile. I came to school with a heart monitor one day; the next day he told me he was “sorry I had a broken heart”. We started dating soon after. He was a little older and had dreams of making it big with his band. I was 16 and wanted to be a surgeon. We were young, and stupid, and I was in love. I thought he would lose interest if I didn’t… (It happened to a friend. She said no and he said goodbye. She cried for weeks.)
We did it in his car the first time. I straddled him in the drivers seat with the shifter digging into my hip as I tried to take him in. It hurt, and I couldn’t, and I was afraid of being late for school. He kissed my hand on our way to class and thanked me. We did it often afterwards. In his car, in his bed, in alleyways behind local plazas; once in his garage where his mom walked in on us.
We got pregnant. My family moved. He followed. It got complicated. We tried, and failed, and fucked, and failed, and tried, and fucked, and failed. Neither of us ready to change enough to make it work.
It ended on my mothers porch. Me in a rocking chair, him leaning on the banister across from me. He got on a plane and went home. I cant remember if we both cried, or if neither of us did.
We’re both better for our parting now; our love for each other is different but still present.
-A hazel eyed bad boy with an anger issues and a drinking problem. My best friend and someone I wanted to save. He came over to help me pick up the pieces of one of the above failures. He was broken-hearted because his fiancé had given back her ring and left him. We put the ring in a drawer. I held him while he cried, he held me while I tried not to. He said he had been “stupid to ask her instead of me”.
For a few days we watched bad rom-coms and fucked in a king size bed neither of us owned. He bought me a glass rose and we finished a box of condoms before his fiancé came to pick him up. She was out of town and he was getting her ring cleaned…or sized? He kissed me when she walked away.
For weeks after, he swore he was mine; promising to leave as soon as he was able. We picked out a house together; talked about churches. I was naïve and bought his lies like a flea-market antique. He never left, and neither did his drinking or abuse; eventually she did. I left the rose behind when I moved.
He taught me what hating myself felt like. I haven’t spoken to him in years; but she is a dear friend.
– A hazel eyed goth I used to walk to the bus-stop with. We were both lonely; both lost for different reasons. I told him about the affair and he said he was “jealous of the time I wasted”. He made me come with his fingers; my first orgasm- it felt like a science experiment. After that I begged him to make love to me and we fucked. We went through the motions, lined up the milestones and marked the next steps. I loved him. I think he loved me, at least for a minute. We had a plan.
Jobs > Apartment > Marriage > House > Kids… We ticked off the boxes.
I had to ask him to fuck me on our wedding night. The sprout of self esteem I had withered and died under his gaze. Soon after we had a son, who was given his fathers eyes, and name. A year later he told me he was born in the wrong body; he was never meant to be a man. I stayed a while. We tried a little. I did what I could to help her come alive. She never touched me. We ended it.
Our lives are better apart. So is our sons. It took work but we’re friends again; and we’ve always been better as friends.
-A blue eyed, ex-bassist, bad boy with a self proclaimed proclivity for drinking too much. The first person I felt listened to and actually heard me. Our bodies pulled us like magnets. We fought our chemistry; the timing was HORRIBLE. When we got tired of fighting it we made out in the back seat of his Impala. A week later we made love in it, and then on my couch, in my shower, anywhere we could… we never stopped. We did things out of order, bought a house, got engaged, got pregnant a month before our wedding. Things get complicated all the time. On rare occasions we fight with each other. But we always fight FOR each other. We fuck often, and make love daily.
-A curvy brunette with an infectious laugh and enough optimism to keep us both looking forward through anything. We did it twice. Once with my husband, and another with hers. That was the deal… but if I’m being honest… I would have been just as happy enjoying her alone. She tasted of vanilla and spice and a strange innocence lost. I’d happily spend more time stealing bits of innocence from her. We talk often and I love her more than she could know.
-Her husband. Just the once. He was tall and quiet and bigger than I anticipated. He made me nervous. He never knew it. I tell her to give my boyfriend a kiss when we chat.
-A peppy bombshell and her partner; both with blue eyes and a taste for darkness akin to mine. We played as a group. I kissed her on Halloween and her lips set me on fire. She told me I was a good kisser. He said he was savoring me and fucked me hard. She made my husband come with just her mouth.
They showed me a different side of sex; the first time he struck her in front of me awakened something I had intentionally buried, locked away, dormant inside.
We enjoyed each other, but the lines were never quite clear enough. We burned each other, and our arrangement, to the ground. I still love them both.
All I have learned from this list is that my type is ‘light eyes or a capacity to ruin my life; both is a plus’. Just kidding. Honestly I haven’t learned anything new from doing this.
I know I have a soft spot for pretty words said by pretty mouths. I know I fall in lust just as quickly as I do in love. I know I’ve crossed lines with abandon when I felt the lines connected to something worth finding.
I also know that my passion for love and lust and connection isn’t a detriment to my character. It isn’t a flaw, it just has to be handled with more care than I have shown it in the past.