Featured Artist Personals - Memoirs

March 1, 2002

Two can be better than one

by Cristy    PrintEasy

I have a new lover.

He's the kind of man who steals my breath as he steals my kisses, then my resolve, and before I can blink, he's stolen my heart. We were friends, pals if you will, and I never considered him anything else until one drunken Email to a Friendnight when I took his face between my hands and pressed my mouth against his. Then his hands were in my hair, his hot breath on my neck, and we were whispering sentiments that would've been horribly embarrassing by the light of day.

Text BiteMy other lover is like the warm smell of vanilla, broad shouldered and with arms that when cradling me against his solid chest, chase away the fiercest of demons on the most frigid winter nights. Ten years our lives have meshed, our shared history at once irreplaceable and inescapable, and it is nearly impossible to imagine a life without his presence, or of those he brings with him.

Just the touch of my new lover's hand at the small of my back makes me ache, and like a grizzly after a long hibernation, I am constantly ravenous. I cease breathing when his thumb catches under my jaw, steadying my head for a kiss; I gasp when he yanks my hair; I pant when the flat of his palm is firmly planted between my shoulder blades, holding me to the bed. His movements are confident and swift and I find myself gradually meeting them with increased ferocity.

My other lover can cup my rear in his large hands, and his fingers trace light circles across my neck and back. He knows the name of the first boy to break my heart, as well as my favorite color, and which topics to avoid while arguing. His biggest strengths are his loyalty and steadfast nature, which he often confuses with being boring, and only his mouth can bring me such pleasure.

Text BiteI love them both, as inconceivable as it may seem, for the same and yet different reasons. While my other lover is respectful of my independence, my new lover is uncomfortable with my insistence on equality. His excessive chivalry is an extension of his regard for me, while careful nonpossessiveness is indicative of the other's. I find them both fascinating yet familiar, their contrasting features and attributes separate sides of the same spinning coin.

I marvel at the fortune that has given me two good men, both of whom place my comfort above their own. I'm quite convinced my new lover would leave his wife for me if I asked, and I believe my other lover would tolerate the knowledge of the new if it was the sole means of keeping me in his life. But I like the current situation, despite its limitations, and resolve to maintain a careful balance between the two.

Only occasionally do I complain about the complications, this division of my affection. Only rarely do I imagine the simplicity of a disposable partner, or a less caring companion, one that would justify this split of my ardor. If love were not perceived as a finite entity, perhaps we could co-exist peacefully, content to appreciate the growth we've inspired instead of carefully choosing our words, modifying our actions, and maintaining a transparent shield of psychological distance. We're trapped by monogamy, and if honesty is inherent to a healthy relationship, the irony that my new lover and I are perhaps the most candid of all the ensuing players is the most egregious sin of all.

So I have half-wished to be so self-serving as to not inquire about my new lover's family, nor guard my other lover from the insecurity of this new presence, and I have made a lukewarm attempt to minimize them in my mind to justify sharing them. Mostly I just relish the fullness these men have brought to my life, my every decision well contemplated and accepted, despite the effort at keeping them separate.

It really is a shame they'll never meet, they have so much in common. I'm sure they would be great friends.

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