It was a Tuesday evening and he texted me unexpectedly. I was in my room doing some much necessary and required research on which Body Shop body mist I should purchase next (it was between Indian Jasmine and Japanese Cherry Blossom and if you are curious to know which one I chose I ended up ordering both and now I regret not adding vanilla into the order because I had free shipping). “Do you want to hang out?” he asked casually making it seem as if he were implying we go out for ice cream and engage in light conversation. I fancied ice cream, mint chocolate chip from Baskin Robins to be exact but I knew better than to think this was an invitation to get a scoop (but still I was hopeful).
“Let’s go” I replied, direct but trying not to sound eager in the tone of my text (so I had intentionally left out the exclamation for effect). “I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes” he responded. He didn’t ask me if I’d be ready in 20 minutes, rather he told me that he was going to be there in 20. It annoyed me a little because it indicated that he isn’t going to consider where I was (not that he knew I was at home but obviously assumed that’s where I’d be because where else could I be?) or what I was doing but I liked his directness and timeliness. Another text chimed on my phone. “And do not wear underwear” he added. Now there is absolutely no chance he’ll detour for ice cream I thought to myself. “Absolutely” I replied back to him keeping it short and sweet, giving him the exact same hope that he had taken away from me. Another text came in “it’s raining, I know you like the rain.” Surprised that he remembered something I said, I replied “it makes for the nicest background noise.”
It was a humid evening as it had been pouring all day, April showers were supposed to bring May flowers but it only brought more drizzle and storms and wet grass. The rain had created a light mist in the air that mixed nicely with the soft breeze. It was refreshing but it also made my hair frizzy and consequently made me feel very unsexy (as it affected my run-your-fingers-through-my-hair-hair. But not that he ever runs his fingers through my hair. Instead he insists that I tie it up and each time while I very much enjoy it down). I took my keys and my mobile phone and walked to his car and waved to him through the window. I opened the door. He studied me. I turned towards him “hi” I said sounding chipper as usual reaching over to his side to buckle my seat belt, searching for the slot to hear the click. “Hi” he replied as he put his hand on my knee and turned to kiss me.
With this left hand on the wheel he reached his free hand for mine and held it, slowly running his fingers down mine and probably wondering “gosh she’s soft.” “I’m soft eh?” I thought out loud speaking what is on his mind. “You’re soft” he agreed with his eyes glued on the road and his mind fixed on me. “Feel how soft my arms are” I went on and he complied gently running the back of his fingers up and down my bare shoulder at the red light. His touch felt nice as we drove in anticipation of being with each other in a tangled sexy mess.
“Right here” he said as he parked the car under a tree in a park. I looked around, scanning this rather unusual location that he chose. “Seriously?” I asked “here?” “Yes” he replied. Like 2 teenagers after a movie date we parked in a public space ironically looking for privacy. He shut off the engine and looked at me with lustful desire completely oblivious of his surroundings. “But someone might catch us!” I said concerned about being caught, fined and imprisoned. “So we’ll put on a show for them” he answered. The possibility of being caught made me want him more, and the prospect of having an audience lessened my anxiety and gave me a dose of confidence. His body was going to be my stage.
He slid my sweater off my shoulders, softly touching my bare skin igniting a shiver all over my body. His brown eyes had a mischievous look in them, twinkling and darling. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked smiling wondering what was going on his mind to prompt him to look at me like that. “I’m not looking at you like anything” he defended as I played with his hair that now began to show hints of greys. “I know you hate when I point your greys but it’s so sexy” I admitted. “Yah I don’t like it” he said self consciously and he leaned in to kiss me pulling me close. His kiss was sexy, sweet and sensual all wrapped up. Like paint bleeding together I couldn’t decipher which emotion I felt more as I slowly drifted melting into a puddle of happy letting every bit of his presence on me take control of my body. His touch was sure but it was gentle, as his hand teasingly made way between my thighs causing an overwhelming sensation in my body. I was elated, in my own realm and completely turned on. The scent of his cologne began to mix with the humidity in the air and it smelled enchanted, consuming me entirely and suspending all desire to think, talk, analyze, and reflect. He sucked my body lip biting it enough to make it hurt in pleasure building my suspense and making me want to take possession of him.
I slid off my sneakers heel toe, heel toe like a child who had just come home from school and eagerly climbed up on the passenger seat. My knees dug deep into the black seat of his little hatchback. Still kissing him I slowly crawled towards him, careful that my bum didn’t accidentally hit the steering wheel setting off the car horn and abruptly ending our moment crafted in natures organic noises. I sat there on him with my legs across his thighs and my ass propped against his hardening cock. “Mmmmm”. He continued kissing me, slipping his tongue between my lips invitingly, sensual and ever so sexy. With his hands firmly holding my waist he unbuttoned my jeans, and his hands made their way up my tshirt trying to reach higher. “Don’t you dare unhook my bra” I scolded playfully taking my hands off his hair and around to my back. He wrestled me with all his strength and finally giving into mine. “Meet me in the back” he whispered as he helped me off of him. I hopped to the back between the front seats like a rabbit.
“Hi” I greeted him playing coy as I clipped my hair up and off my face. “Come over here” he demanded. I complied eagerly awaiting his next move in this tight space as the rain started up again. I complied. Sitting with both my legs folded behind me I crawled to him, straddling on top of him hoping that the car would magically turn into a bed with a roof. I looked into his eyes with a mischievous look on my face as I unzipped his pants. His eyes widened with excitement eagerly expected my next move. With my hand inside his jeans I explored dropping it lower, gently grabbed his cock and stroked his hardness over his briefs, teasing him the same way he teased me. A moan escaped from deep inside him and it made me more bolder, more daring with each passing second. I had him hot and needy as I held his throbbing hard flesh in my hand and it was wonderful! The feeling of being dominate was powerful but I wouldn’t be in the lead for very long.
He interrupted me, distracting me from his maleness with his soft lips and started to kiss my neck unexpectedly. Gently kissing me from neck to my ear, softly biting my ear lobe with his teeth and licking the shell of my ear setting me off into a desire filled frenzy. If I was in Plato’s World of Forms I thought, then he was the perfect form of sex. I could hear his soft breathing and it made me wet with desire. With my back against him he took me into his arms softly kissing the side of my neck, shoulder and down my back. “You’re look so beautiful naked” he said. “Inside, I want you inside me” I whispered consciously as if afraid that someone might hear me. “What did you say?” he asked me again. I tilted his head towards me and whispered into his ear, “finger me” I demanded. He moved the top of my pink lace panties aside and dipped his fingers inside stroking my femininity searching for me, signalling me to come for him.
Like an easel begging for art I naturally parted my legs in anticipation of him sliding his fingers in and out, in and out of me biting my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning in delight. I wanted him to finger paint me. Cover me with pinks and reds, hues of blue and yellow and lose me in the intensity of the suns golden rays. With my eyes clenched tightly together and his fingers covered in my honey I couldn’t help it, I let out of a scream of encouragement as my hands tightly gripped his forearm begging him to go deeper. His fingers sliding in and out of me provoked me, aroused me, pleasured me. He turned me upside down and inside out as his lips covered my neck in endless wet kisses. Unable to contain myself I screamed in ecstasy, squirmed in glee as my heart continued to race against time. Consumed by the walls of heat burning inside of me my orgasm was furthering, the tingling sensation was building but I was unable to sneeze! We had battled to the death. He had pushed, I had fought him back and now I was ready to give into him. I moved my back further into him, tilted my head back, every joint in body stiffened and our space was getting increasingly warmer. I yelled out his name and he lifted me, higher and higher until I finally crashed and free fallen into his arms. I had climaxed. My lungs hurt from screaming, I couldn’t breathe, my mouth was dry, my lips were sore from the constant biting and I could feel the tingling all the way in my toes. “mmmm” I mouthed to him as he kissed my shoulder. Hashtag wow.
Sometimes I feel like I am jumping up and down waiting for someone to notice me. I’m waiting to be seen. I’m here! I’m here! Over here. Yes! A little bit to the right, just a little more, tilt your head down a bit, yes! Here. Look at me! Look at me! Look at meee! I repeat in my head in a crowd, or standing in line at Second Cup for a decaf coffee, waiting to check out at a grocery store, standing in line for the bus, or walking around an art gallery. Look at me! The one with the black t-shirt, blue jeans, fire-y red lips and glasses. But nothing. I am unseen. I go unnoticed. I’m invisible. This has led me to me question my life, my existence, the very foundation of my being and what matters to me. The questions are complicated and difficult but the answers have become increasingly simple not because I am so smart (because that I am) but because I’ve reached a point in my life where I know who I am and what I want. But it still bothers me. I can see you, but why can’t you see me?
Unrequited love is the only love I know. A one sided love that I have fallen into many times, twice to be exact. It’s a love that requires one set of eyes, one beating heart, time, patience, and hope. All of which are mine. In this love I fall first and stay there wishing upon the brightest twinkling star in the night sky that he’ll fall for me too. That one morning he will wake up with his sexy messy sleepy bedroom hair and realize that she’s the one! I have got to tell her that. But that doesn’t happen, my love is not reciprocated. It’s a half moon love that never comes full circle to shine.
I have never been in the opposite of unrequited love. I see but I am unseen, I love but I am not loved in return, I want but I am not wanted. Being alone in love feels lonely. One sided love is embarrassing, humiliating, pathetic and I cannot help (despite how intelligent I am) but feel stupid. You might be reading this and be thinking that I am not missing out on anything much or perhaps that I have an overly romantic and unrealistic view of love; but that is only because you have experienced it. You have been on the inside of love while I have always been on the outside of love looking in.
When you have been missing something in your life, something that every other person right before your eyes seems to be taking for granted you begin to see what you are lacking very differently. I can’t see love in the same way that you see love because you have loved and been loved in return (perhaps many times) and consequently you will never see love the way I do because I am someone who has never experienced being loved in return. When you have been missing something in your life for a long time you not only see it differently than everybody else, it takes on a different reality of importance to you. I have always believed and maintained the position that love matters but as I got older my situational reality suggested that I change my belief because my belief in love did not align with my reality.
In my reality I loved but I remained invisible, my reality differed from the outside norm and it was up to me to compensate for my inexperience and to legitimize my experience as “normal”. It was therefore up to me to comfort myself and make myself feel as normal as I possibly could as it was becoming clear that nobody wanted me, for when I fell in love with someone they never shared the same sentiments about me. Consequently I convinced myself that being loved doesn’t matter, at least to me. I did not want to hold a belief in something that was running counter intuitive to my reality. After convincing myself that love did not matter and after finally admitting that I was only deceiving myself I acknowledged that it does; love matters so much and most importantly it matters to me.
Because I have never been in the opposite of unrequited love I feel invisible. It sounds senseless and of course I know that it is not true, I am not invisible because when I walk into a room I am acknowledged by the Other, greeted with a hello, a wave, a friendly smile, enthusiasm, and sometimes even a hug but despite the physical recognition of being a physically present subject or human entity by the Other I don’t feel truly seen. A part of me has still not been validated and I admit that it is bothering me. No amount of compliments, “job well dones”, educational or work related achievements, extensive travel, expensive wines, watches, delicious pastries and chocolates, pretty red lipsticks, library full of amazing books and friends can validate me. I like all of those things, they make life fun. All of those things interest me and make me feel happy, they satisfy my personal goals, curiosity and my intellect but they do not give me the feeling that I matter. Mattering matters, it matters to me that I matter to someone. When I have good news, or a funny story, or a day-to-day-life-musing, a lame joke, a youtube clip or clever tweet I wish I had someone to share it with, someone who would want to share those things with me. What bothers me the most is not the loneliness (not of the existential kind) and the fact that I have never mattered to someone.
There is an emptiness that I am not able to fix, not even with the finest of Belgium chocolate. Of course I don’t believe that am entirely invisible. Guys have told me that I am pretty (6 to be exact, it happens so rarely that I keep track), some have said that I am “unlike any other Indian girl” they have met (I love this one and take it as a compliment and encourage Indian girls to keep doing exactly what they are doing because it makes me look good). I have been told that I look amazing naked, have a quirky and endearing personality and am really smart. Although these compliments that objectify me (in a healthy and respectable and necessary self-validating manner) are nice to hear, they pretty much mean nothing. I smile and say thank you at these compliments but I don’t believe them, not entirely. I can’t, because the world seems to confirm that they are not true. If their words had even an ounce of truth I wouldn’t be writing this blog. Maybe I am all of those things but just not enough. No matter how many times he tells me that I am beautiful in an intimate setting I don’t believe him because I don’t matter to him. I am sex. When he kisses me it feels (amazing but) empty because I don’t matter to him, I am a body. Sex without mattering is just (convenient but) empty. Despite being seen as attractive, hot and intelligent there is a part of me that has not been validated, a part of me that has not been truly seen. I am nude but I am not naked. I am noticed but not seen. I just want to be seen. Once.
Here is Kris’s insight to my situation.
Being in a relationship isn’t what it seems. It’s not easy and it’s actually a bit complicated. A relationship can be draining, it can be more draining than a job and be detrimental to your own personal goals and dreams. You have to sacrifice some of your plans and goals that you had for yourself because it may not fit with your partner’s plans and ambitions and you’ll probably resent them for stopping you from pursuing your dreams because every decision that you make has to be for the both of you, it has to make sense for the other person as well. And then you’ll fight and realize that you love somebody who is actually pretty bad for you but your stupid heart can’t let them go for some reason. But being in a relationship can be nice, it’s nice to have someone to cuddle up against after a bad day and banging your head against the headboard 5 times a day can be fun.
I know he’s completely right. Nothing is easy and relationships can obstruct your freedom, limit your possibilities, complicate your life and goals, potentially compromise your individuality but it could also give rise to other possibilities that could other wise not have been possible. I can’t help but think that the positives out weigh the negatives. It sounds wonderful to have someone to play Scrabble with while drinking green tea and wearing fuzzy socks, someone who wants you to call in sick for work one day just so you can sleep in and have sex on the washing machine, someone who you don’t have to fake it for, someone whose simple text message on your phone makes you smile a goofy smile, and someone you can can sit comfortably in silence with. These are just my thoughts, thoughts from someone who only sees love from the outside and has been always looking in.
I was with him last night and I stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong Kiran?” he asked as I rested naked on top of him, burying my nose into him. “I don’t know” I replied hoping he could just read what was on my mind without me having to explain my thoughts. “You’re not really helping me understand, are you okay?” he asked. “I’m okay” I said. I couldn’t do it anymore. I can’t do this anymore I thought to myself. I was tired. It felt so meaningless, routine and emotionless. He kisses me but he’s not kissing me. He wants me but wants only a part of me. He likes me but it’s mostly because of what I can do.
I need a change. No. I need a brand new experience. I just want to be loved and adored. It’s that simple. I want to be kissed by someone who is kissing me. I want hugs, ones where he doesn’t want to let go. I want him to smile when he sees me because he’s happy. I want everything to not make sense (because I heard that’s how love is like). I want to experience what it feels to be a normal 16 year old at 28. I want what I’ve never had. I want to be a part of something meaningful in this otherwise meaningless existence. I want all of this being unapplogetically me.
I hope you have this. I hope you don’t relate to my post and if you do, I hope you get everything I want times more at least once.