Unbearable Fantasies
My fantasy had collapsed onto itself. As he held me tightly in his arms, I didn't know if he was real, if he had materialized out of nowhere, only to disappear again. Encounters with him have a garish beginning. It's not romantic at all! It is not the romance I want, I need, I imagined, I could make sense of. It was transactional. Before meeting him, I would already be upset about him leaving. I wanted him to hold me, to tell me that he cares for me and that he will care for me. But, despite knowing what I wanted him to say, he wouldn't. Maybe it was his way of holding onto some power when clearly the transactional nature of us meeting warranted that I was the one holding it. Several months back, I was out and about in a familiar city with a few friends. A city that gets you so drunk that you forget about the awful people who live in it. After a long day, much of which I spent with a long forgotten old friend - who used to be a lover - turned stranger now - turned friend a