CHRISTMAS PRESENT

 

You kissed my forehead. You kissed my closed eyelids. You kissed my cheeks. You kissed my nose. You kissed my lips.

It felt wonderful. You dusted me with love and affection but I never truly appreciated it. I just wanted you to get on with it.

It's what everyone's calling a cold day in San Jose. Cold? I wouldn't walk around outside in a T-shirt and shorts, but it's definitely not cold. It was cold when we spent Christmas together two years ago. But it was only cold outside. Somehow that made me feel warmer, snuggling in bed with you, watching the snowflakes drift down through my bedroom window. I said that to you, do you remember? I said that the chill outside made me feel hotter than I actually was. You told me that I didn't make sense and that I was silly.

You licked me and nibbled on me, but you never bit me or scratched me. I think I might have liked it if you did. I liked it when other people did that to me.

The first time you gave me head it was good, but it got a lot better each time you did it. You listened to what I said and you paid attention to what I responded to. I don't think I did the same for you.

We almost always ended up doing what I wanted. I always picked the movie and I was always quick to shoot down your suggestions. That's what I realize now, but back then I just thought I was right. My choices were always better, I thought, as I argued with you. It never occurred to me that you were giving in to me, not agreeing with me.

You really liked closed-mouth kisses. I liked them before I met you, but I really enjoyed them because of you. We'd kiss like that, rapid-fire, until one of us started smiling and giggling.

No, I think I remembered that wrong. We wouldn't stop when that happened, we'd just keep on kissing.

You kept silent whenever I yelled at you, which was often. You didn't deserve that. I shouted at you over stupid little things. I got mad at you when you left the VCR on and it didn't record some dumb football game. I argued with you until you agreed to go get groceries twice in a row, which made sense to me at the time through some convoluted logic. I shouted at you over the big things too. You didn't go to see Emmy when we had a few days off because I thought we hadn't spent enough time together. But you gave in to me not because you were weak, but because you understood that I didn't mean to be hurtful. And I think you knew I really loved you.

It never hurt when you fucked me. I have no idea what you did exactly, but I was surprised. Afterwards, that is. While you were fucking me, I never thought about anything but you, and how good you felt inside me, and how much I loved the feel of your hands on me and the pleasant weight of your body on mine.

Did I ever hurt you? You never said anything and I never asked.

You're the most tolerant person I've ever met, but I finally made you reach your breaking point. How many times did I throw you out of my house? Six, seven times? More than five and less than ten. You always left with a sigh, and at the time I thought it was because you felt bad about whatever minor infraction I'd decided to kick you out for, but I guess it was really because you were losing patience with me. You were figuring out that whatever good you saw in me wasn't worth the abuse you were putting up with. So when I threw you out that last time, you walked down my driveway, stopped at the end, turned around and just stood there, staring at me. I only realized later, when you never came back, that it was goodbye shining in your eyes.

I still think about you. Sometimes I even dream about you. And I do still love you. I wonder if we'll ever get back together. I've changed. I've been with a few people since we broke up and I don't do all those stupid things I did to you. I control my temper. I've learned that it's wrong to lash out at the ones you love when things aren't going your way. Or rather, I've unlearned that behaviour. Imagine that.

But I think it would be hard for you to see the change in me. We were together for so long, and I think you will forever think of me as that spoiled vicious brat who never appreciated what he had. And I'm afraid that being with you would remind me of who I was, and I'd go back to being that person. I guess we were never meant to be. I will always love you, though, and I hope that you're happy, wherever you are in life and whoever you're with.

Merry Christmas, Mikael.

 

THE END