Love Lost

I went to the club that night with hopes of having a good time with my friends. I love to dance, especially when I am dancing with friends. I do not like to dance alone. So, when we got to the club, we all went down to the floor.

My friends tired of it quickly, but I still wanted to dance. But with whom? No one else I knew was there, and I was too shy to approach anyone else who was dancing by themselves. So, I went to the second floor, and stood at the railing looking at the dancefloor. That is when I saw you.

You were standing a little ways to my left, and you were looking at me. I thougt to myself "There is no way he is looking at me", but then you approached me and said "You look like someone who wants to dance. Would you like to?" Who says no to a cute boy?

We danced all night. It was great fun. I learned that you were an ex-stripper named Jason, aka Spike, and I told you my name is Luke. We exchanged numbers out at your car, and both went our own ways home. My friends had never seen me so excited. You were the first boy to ever approach me at the club with more than sex on his mind.

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Well, two days later, I deemed it right to call you. I was so worried that I was calling unacceptably early. What's the rule for waiting a number of days to call?? Well, you were just as excited as I was that I called. You never expected to hear or see from me ever again. We chatted for hours, covering every topic possible. I loved it. There was something just so natural about talking to you.

We chatted every night. Sometimes for hours, sometimes not so long, but the time did not matter because there was something about talking to you that made me happy. What surprised me most was that you seemed to like to talk to me just as much.

One night, we were talking, and you off-handedly mentioned that nothing was stopping me from coming over. I agreed. And I did something spontaneous. I drove all the way to Connecticut to hang out with you and Molly. We spent the entire night just listening to music and chatting. It was wonderful. It did not matter the next day that I had not slept at all, and had spent almost two and a half hours on the road. I went to work happy as a clam.

We continued chatting. We chatted while you took your nightly bath. We talked about family, friends, pasts, futures, everything... I enjoyed all of it. Even when you called me at 2am after just getting in from work, I liked it. Sleep did not seem to matter as much as talking to you did.

After about two weeks, we agreed that we were and item, but that we did not want to label what we had. As if labeling it would be bad luck. We were monogamous, and unanimous about that. I guess some would say we were dating, or that we were boyfriends, but the label does not matter. I was yours.

We spent several nights over each other's houses, and had a lot of great fun. Sex was not an issue to either of us. I just loved to be in your arms. We fit so well. I think we first had sex on the third week, and strangely, it did not leave me feeling rushed as it had before with other people. It felt timely, and right.

One night, we watched Moulin Rouge. It was my first time watching it, and I cryed a lot (like I am right now). Such a sad movie. It played with my emotions a lot. But, I just held you in my arms and watched it. We did have to take that break in the middle there though. You dryed my tears. We did some other stuff too, wink. I fell asleep very contented that night

Now, on to one of our last nights together.

As I lay there in the dark, looking at you, you asked me "what?" for the hundredth time. And instead of my usually "nothing", I could not speak. I was choked up. Everything was flying through my head so fast. I had just realized that the boy in my arms... that this gorgeous man of a boy in my arms... that I loved you. I did not have the courage to say it, but somehow you could tell and you said "I love you too".

I cryed as I clutched you. I was so happy to have finally found you. You understood, without me even telling you. You reciprocated, without even being asked or cajolled. We fit so well. I left to go home that weekend, and as we hugged and kissed at my car, I whispered to you "I love you." I do not know if you knew how hard it was to say those words. I was so afraid to say them. They are dangerous words.

We talked every night, and visited as often as we could. Then the night came. You told me that you had to move away from me. I had just found you, and you had to move away. What's worse than losing love? Losing it when it is no one's fault, when there is no one to be angry at, or no one to hate. You had to go take care of your grandfather, and since I know how family is, I could not tell you not to go. I did say I did not want you to.

We talked for a little while longer. You asked me if we should break it off now, or keep it going right up to the end. Out of fear, I said we should break it off. It was such a wrong decision. But my fear that either you or I would find someone else in the between time made me say it. It hurt so much. It still hurts.

Then, we were supposed to have our last night together at the place where we met. I wanted to spend the whole night with you, and make you understand all the things I could not say. We were both so worried about the other person that we did whatever we thought would make it easier on them. "Oh, you'll find someone else, someone better," we both said. Great consolence.

Then you said something that hurt me beyond anything else. You said you did not want to spend the rest of the night with me because it hurt too much. I cheerfully said ok, but on the inside I was screaming. I wanted our last night together to be just us, all night. Of course, I wanted to make it as easy on you as I could, so I went to the dancefloor and danced out all the words I could not say to you. I danced hard to block out my own thoughts. I pretended like you were not dancing a few steps away. I wanted to hurt you for that, and that made me so pissed at myself.

You finally left. I went home. You had asked me to call you the next day, but hey, since you did not want to spend the night together, why should I call you? Right? The stupid things people do. I regret not calling you because, now I have no way to get in touch with you.

I spent a couple months lying to myself. Saying I did not hurt as much as I did. Hell, it was like you were still there. I did not think about you.

Now, after I stopped diluding myself, I miss you more than I ever thought I could. I keep wishing that at any moment you'll come walking up my stairs. I dream of you at night, and I even imagine you in my arms at times. I look at the rose you gave me when you first came to my place, and I look at it longingly. I look at the bear you gave me, and realize I never gave you anything. Maybe it was enough for you to have me, but, today, I would give you everything just to have you back.

I can not do anything about the mistakes I made in the past. Such stupid things. I want to say "maybe he really did not love me", or "maybe he was lying", or "maybe I did not love him", but the fact that these thoughts hurt makes me know it could not be true. It would make it so much easier if I could write my mistakes off as good things, but I know that is not going to happen.

So, instead, I am writing you this letter, and hoping someone out there knows you. Hoping maybe, just maybe, you'll read it and respond. This is a lot of hope for just one letter. And I'm sorry if some of you out there have read this hoping to get off, but some people just need to get some things off their chest.

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