by Jess Kolbe
I understand making meaning on all levels of heart, mind and body. I have battled and learnt to embrace and love my darkness as much as my light, I know their ways. I am blessed to understand my bodies expression of that darkness, the shudders, the heaviness, the dread, it is how I become, feel, and show up for me. I know my pain, my monsters, I’ve learnt to free them, trust in myself to visit those dark places and return to me. Each day I take back my life from the monsters that had taken it from me. The more I accept me for who I am, the more the judgement leaves me. I argue less with myself on who I should or should not be, and I’ve never felt happier nor freer in my life. It doesn’t mean I haven’t revisited my dark places, or they don’t occasionally sneak up on me with ferocity. Instead, it means I now allow and accept a different response, one of self-trust and belief in me to show up for myself. This is what led me to my happy, to my chosen life.
Despite this internal world that exists for me, I live also in a world of confidence and strength, a hard shell. Well let’s be honest, I’m a fucking smart warrior woman. I’ve been tested, and I’ve shown up for myself. Some people are lucky to find their love within and not know horrors. If truth be told, we all have a horror show in the background these days. Finding love helps us to have an anchor in this world. You see, I had to be my own anchor, drawing strength from within, not from the love of another. That ‘you need to love yourself first’ bullshit is true. When you have a solid foundation to start from, it makes a huge fucking difference. That core strength that rises in you to overcome any challenge successfully. It’s that feeling of invincibility, like a honeymoon period of a relationship where you believe you can achieve and overcome anything. It is a foundation within us, I have all that I need within me, my belief needed to be reinforced continually. I had to show up and find this within me, as I didn’t have any other choice, than to choose me and believe that I could be that for myself. I chose to begin living and creating my own version of happy and now with this man walking into my life, my world is shaking, my foundation scared, my belief in my sense of self is afraid. All that I’ve dreamed of is in front of me, maybe love could be real for me?
I did believe for a long time that I was too bent, too damaged and completely unlovable. I discovered how wrong I was through self-love and taking a risk to trust myself. I know that my traumas will come out, I understand that my brain and fears will work hard to sabotage this, which is why I’m trusting my inner self now with my darkness, to help me be grounded. To help me to stay in my authentic self, to feel out of control and free to still show up, to help me to learn to love like a goddess in my truth. I am love and I want to share it. Holy shit, perhaps I should even drip feed you on my crazy. Please, let me not be so damaged for love.
HIM | Eight
Driving to Evie’s, my hands are shaking. It dawns on me that in my haste to get ready, I choose the shirt I wore for Dad’s funeral. It’s been a while and it’s not that bad, I guess, but I ask myself should I be wearing it? Is this a reminder that I shouldn’t be?
Fuck, it’s a shirt for fuck’s sake. I’m struggling to make decisions and knowing what the fuck to do lately. I’m all over the shop. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to have dinner so soon.
She’s got this spell over me. Well, truly, if I’m honest with myself, I like her and would do just about anything to bury myself deep in her. Fuck, buried, fuck. My thoughts are all over the place, going from Evie to Dad. I want Dad out of my mind, I just want to forget it all. I can’t cope, automatically regretting my thoughts and feeling like I’m betraying Dad. Guilt punches me square in the chest, leaving me breathless. I want to be close to her, I want more time, I want to break away from my fucking shit life. I’m fucking useless. Why would she even like me? If she only knew I killed my Dad.
I pull the car over. Get control, Sam! Composing myself, I wonder what the hell is wrong with me? This thinking is stupid, it’s just a date. Frozen in my seat, gripping the steering wheel, wanting to break it off and throw the damn thing down the street. The pressure continues to build. Tightening my fists, forcing myself to get it together, I force control to return. This is not you, STOP. Go have your date and see what happens. I allow a moment to dream of her creasing me with those hips. “Right, here we go.” Adjusting myself and moving the car towards Evie’s again. Just like that those thoughts are gone, perspective has arrived.
Standing at her front door, I hear soft music and Evie humming. The house has a wide hallway, with soft lighting all the way along. A giant staghorn is growing on the wall next to the front door. It’s an older home, in a nice area. I knock on the door, looking toward the end of the hallway. All my senses alive with the smells and allure of her. I’m caught in her trap. She’s dancing. Seeing her body swaying in front of me, speaks volumes to my fantasies, of her nakedness and my willingness to be at her mercy. It feels wonderfully warm inside. I want to please her. My cock attempts to sway with her hips. I can’t take my eyes off her. From hips to breast, to thighs, I’m mesmerized and settling into the feel of it, moving towards her desire. She arrives in front of me and I can’t help but continue to take my time with her, teasing the space between us, my gaze exploring her inch by inch, until I reach those eyes, piercing me with want. She touches me and leans in to kiss my cheek. As she holds her presence close, the scent of her desire mixed with sweet vanilla drawing me in. She thanks me for the flowers, slipping them out of my hand as she invites me in. Words have left me. Autopilot has taken over, following only my primal instincts, because on one side is overwhelming desire and sheer terror on the other. Her house has so many pictures of her ocean, of her family, it feels comfortable and homely, a place lived in. I’m following her around like a puppy, lapping up her every word, although I have no idea what we are talking about. Being in her space, this close to her, fixated on her body and her openly letting me, I’m struggling to keep my shit together. I comment on her photos and try to play it cool, not wanting her to know how much I like her. Suddenly, I want her to be impressed by me.
We leave and head to the restaurant and it is awkwardly comfortable.
By the time we arrive, I’m feeling more in control. Evie’s home felt good but so fucking real, maybe too real. I want to know her more. She feels special, different. Maybe I’m different? Rebutting thoughts cross my mind while the waiter describes the specials.
I ask if she would like to share and she agrees. Surprise her, she says. Fuck, surprise her? I hope she doesn’t complain, shit, okay. I choose, three different dishes, eager to impress.
Straight away she asks what makes me feel alive. I’m taken aback by the questions, and I really like it. There’s a lot happening at once.
All I can think about is the farm, working with Dad. My thoughts race, and I manage to tell her about the last time Dad and I worked together, how I had been helping him with fencing, how like old times we raced back to the shed on the motor bikes. The proud moment of me winning and the truth is that Dad hasn’t been able to beat me since I was 15 years old, despite his gallant efforts. How we would always share a beer after a hard day and even though we didn’t often talk much, we could enjoy the silence of the farm together. I smile sharing my experience with Evie, while that lump rises in my throat, the acknowledgement of what I have lost. I look to Evie, quickly asking her the same question, trying to concentrate on her response. She describes the feel of a sun setting at the beach, the colours, and how the beauty in a simple moment can take her breath away. How she can feel so much contentment in a moment like that, small things. I ask when the last time was, that she did that, and she smiles. Tuesday. She feels open and honest and I ask how she is single. Why has nobody swept her off her feet?
Our food arrives and I can see she’s struggling with my question, I tell her not to worry, realising I’ve stumbled into a difficult question. “Let’s eat.”
Evie looks up at me, holding my gaze. Instantly, I feel uneasy. She waits for the waiter to finish before speaking.
; “I was closed off to love by fear and pain. I have spent a long time working on myself and feel that I am ready to meet someone special.”
Words escape me her level of honesty, and all I have is “thank you for telling me.” She sizes me up and continues.
“We all have a story Sam, one that we are trying to survive. I have one and I think you do too, that’s life these days. Pain is a high probability.”
Okay I think to myself, man up. “Evie, that is true, and I do. Have a story, that is, and I am also not sure on what I am looking for here with you.”
Evie talks about the sweetness of life, and the sour, like our food in front of us. It was, a nice redirect or that was too much, either way, I’m left unsure she heard what I said. After some more small talk eases the pressure, I build enough courage to ask her about feeling alive and how I liked the question. Evie says she wants to get to know the man I am. As the words come out of her mouth, the lump in my throat returns, sweaty palms, anxious. She will discover I am definitely not a good one.
Evie talks so differently to anyone I have ever met. She is up front and not at all what I am used to. Under all of that she also has a quick wit, sparking banter as if fresh from the farm. She feels like home, family banter that used to exist in the kitchen at Mum and Dads. I force my mind back to Evie. It is so erotic the way she watches me. I find myself reaching for her skin, safely landing on her hand and gliding my fingers over hers, showing her how I am going to take my time.
To break the intensity, I ask what she does to relax. The usual: cooking, reading, beach, swimming, loving baths. She tells me that one day to have a bath outside and talks about how she would love a bath under the stars, a his and hers with hot water, for continuous topping up. I interject. What about a shared bath?
“No,” she firmly says. “Two separate; perhaps sharing at times” with a wink. She brings lightness to the moment, even though that was a bit of a random response. I feel encouraged and ask her about her dream home. She hesitates and, again, becomes fierce in her eye to eye connection with me, like she is deciding how much to trust me. It is the strangest feeling, both arousing and frightening. She mumbles, fumbling over her words. “I don’t know, something created for a family with my loved ones.”
It’s nice to see her nervous. I watch her intently and, there it is, she looks down and away. She’s vulnerable. I desperately want to go to her aid, I need to protect her, to hold her, I want to know what she’s made of.
Abruptly, she suggests a walk. I’m somewhat relieved to experience her privately and don’t want the evening to end. I want to kiss her, to hold that body against mine tightly. The darkness of the night and the lack of people help to alleviate the uncomfortable space between us. I can feel her trembling and I automatically switch to protection mode. I notice I become more solid for her, I want to be strong for her, I want her to trust me.
What am I thinking, where is this coming from?
She stops and leans against the walkway her perfume lingers. I’m going to kiss her.
Evie grabs my hand and places it over her breast, what the… I’m completely frozen. Deer caught in the headlights. I feel like a horny teenager. My mouth gapes open. This feels great and it’s happening to me! Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, I feel this thud, again and again, pumping against her rib cage. I am hit by my own wave of emotion and my pulse quickens. I move quickly to hide my overwhelm from her, and so I lean in to kiss her, slowly. I can breathe, focus on her, taming me. She tastes sweet and soft. I play with her, discovering her lips, drawing her into me hard. The push, pull dynamic, is pure bliss building within me, together with Evie in my arms. I deepen our kiss and reach for her breast to feel her skin respond to me. I’m hit by another wave.
Fuck, I feel exposed.
I push down hard on my sadness, on my fucking emotion. “Be a man!” reverberates around my brain. I can’t stop. I pull her closer to disguise my emotion. I pull back and feel more of it coming. I move us apart and cool our temperature, focusing on her while a few tears claw their way out of me. I move back and away, manoeuvring Evie towards the car, in dreaded silence, trying to keep my shit together. She’s too much, I can’t deal with feeling this, I can’t be the man she talked about. I don’t want this. It’s too much. If she knew I’m fucking weak as piss. If she knew me really, she would never have let me kiss her. I’m ashamed.
HER | Nine
I’ve been ready for a while now. I hear him at the door and walk down the hallway, open and full of golden ginger light from the setting sun. As I gesture for him to come in, his eyes hit me like a rogue wave, even though I am swimming, fighting to keep my head above the currents of my emotions. I knew he was coming and, yet, his surprise pumps through me, the way my body reacts to him, like I didn’t see him coming full in his desire and the energy of our aloneness. I feel his eyes trace my body as I walk towards him. He doesn’t move, captured by my hips. I’m caught in his excitement of my body. As a curvy woman who’s had body issues, the sensation of a man so openly aroused by the swing of my hips only strengthens my own love for the feeling of my womanliness. I feel sexy in his presence.
Standing in the doorway, he takes me all in while drawing breath and running his fingers through his hair. I feel like his lips have gently passed over every inch of my body, covering me in goosebumps. My god, he smells amazing. I wait for his eyes to get back to mine. He takes his time, the space is electrified, and I am patient. I nervously place my hand on his stomach, kissing him on the cheek, holding our closeness ever so lightly. I pause to take a deep breath of him, thanking him for the daisies and inviting him in, to all of me. I have to turn away to catch my breath. My heart is attempting to steady her drum. She’s been beating with emotion, drumming loudly, showing me the way forward. I internally acknowledge her, my heart, the centre of my soul, lovingly appreciating the beating of my drum, welcomed throughout my body, welcoming how he feels in me.
God, I really want to invite him into all of me.
Walking back to the kitchen, he’s behind me. I know exactly where his eyes are. I can feel the heat of him, drawing on all of my willpower to not turn and devour the man. My mind silently reminds me to taste every moment, make it last, holding him tightly in the softened beat of my drumming heart. I am enjoying these feelings right now, encouraging myself to feel him in this space. We make small talk, clearly struggling with the chemistry and privacy of my home that is engulfing us.
Okay, I’m ready, and he’s a gentleman all the way, doors opened. Wow, he loved watching me get into his four-wheel drive. We get there and he’s already made the table reservation.
We talk, enjoying each other. I love the way words roll out of his mouth. He is watching me watching his lips.
He’s holding my hand over the table, occasionally ever so lightly gliding one finger over my fingers, the sensation of his smallest touch leaving residual heat long after his finger is gone. We have flow, it feels easy, natural, my God do I know you? have you been here this entire time? These thoughts are running on a loop in the recess of my mind.
The night is clear and after dinner I suggest we stroll along the boardwalk that stretches along the coastline. We walk slowly in silence, comfortable and playful without words. Lost in thoughts, I wonder if we are both in shock from our intensity and are slowly absorbing the chemistry of our experience, washing off the shock as we go. I can feel him in the dark, like a solid support, as we approach a part of the walk that is dimly lit over the water. I stop and lean against the railings facing the ocean. I feel our nerves rise in the anticipation of our togetherness and our aloneness. I want him to know what he’s doing to me. I want him to experience what’s happening on the inside of me. I smile at him, unsure and do it anyway, pulling his hand to my chest. I’m not sure of what I’m doing, shaking and feeling quite exposed, as I open his hand, placing his palm on my chest, hoping he can feel my beating heart on my bare skin. I’m instantly overcome by his hand on my chest and, regretting the level of
intimacy.
“Sam, I want you to feel what you are doing to me.”
I search his face in the dark, looking for the recognition when he feels my heart pounding under his hand. He moves closer to me and I’m gasping for air, we are so close, his lips are within reach, right there. He’s got such restraint, and all I want is for him to devour me. His hand holds my face, pressing his firm body against me. I can feel all of him as he tilts my head, gently brushing his lips against me, playing with the feel of me, slowing me down, drawing me further in to the moment, into the feel of him. I feel everything at once, his body, strong, pressed against me, my legs like jelly, his chest, his manhood, his hands, those lips, his smell, while all of me is melting completely in his perfect kiss. I’m yearning for more, as our lips establish a tempo all their own. Slow and peppered, patient, he feels my desire, my hands on him. The kiss deepens, as does his hold on me, with his hand returning to my chest, searching for my heartbeat. It’s only milliseconds before he responds to the feel of my pounding drum heart, returning his hands to my hips, slowing our kiss, holding me closely. He releases me, both of us trying to compose ourselves after dipping our toes into the vastness of the ocean.
Shock descends upon us both. He relaxes his grip on me and stares at me, in the darkness, I can’t tell if he’s searching for something. His shining eyes light up while he confidently holds my face, smiling into my soul while brushes his lips against mine, ever so softly, as we walk silently to his car. A calm descends on us, a knowing, perhaps, that this was big. He felt amazing. I can feel the firmness of him tasting me so deeply and fear is peaking behind the dark night. He puts his arm around me, does he sense me? We feel bewildered, I think. I feel bewildered. I want him to lay with me, to just lay in each other’s skin to expose all those parts of us that need to be nurtured before he owns me. I’m dreaming of this when I see we are out the front of my house. He gets out to open the door for me. I don’t want the night to finish, autopilot takes over. I open the door and he’s still holding my hand. My mind is racing, what do I say? Should I say, ‘would you like to come in for coffee?’ Who has coffee at night, anyway? Fuck, what’s next? Fuck, panic and overthinking rampant!