Love, as the Sea

Samantha and I were, in lack of better terms, undefined lovers. If one were to request any reason for our physical interest, it would prove to be rather straightforward. It was unmistakably an accident waiting to occur. However, the affliction of regret never once seized manipulation over either one of us. Samantha has indeed illustrated beauty like no other female before her. The reality of maintaining our friendship through sexual intimacy established a progressive method of holding onto one another. It resulted in the impossibility of pain or the absence of trust. Therefore, it continued to drive myself to simplistic measures like a pure physical relationship. We mutually deemed the misuse of sex as a ritual, bound by the symbolic notion of our sensitivity.

An undisturbed Sunday evening escorted us to the company of ocean waves, crashing violently against the sea cliffs. The sky revealed the evidence of a starry night, in adjacent with the coolness of the breeze. I respected our surroundings as a romantic and visionary world, perfect for our evening together. What more could we possibly demand to allow our engagement to transpire more efficiently?

As we positioned ourselves on the ridge, we watched absorbedly the upwelling of the sea. An illuminating lighthouse a few miles outward was obviously capturing the attention of Samantha’s awareness. Her eyes were immediately focused upon the radiance that circled the horizon. A soft smile formed upon her crimson lips, compelling my own mouth to grin at the sight of splendor. She never once looked away from the seascape, but appeared conscious of my consistent observation of her presence.

No more than a moment passed when her sight steered in my direction. Within her blue eyes, I continued to gaze upon a vast ocean without having to look away. Seamless colors drifted off her irises as they sparkled in the serene moonlight. Her smile matured into a much more exquisite vision. Her hand gradually caressed my cheek, but I sensed no warmth within her touch. Only the occasional natural feel I’ve come to known from our so-called relationship. However, I indulged myself in her ethereal touch, taking in all heavenly bliss from her gentleness. My lips departed from each other, either attempting to utter a single word or to embrace her lips in a passionate kiss. I couldn’t tell from the emptiness existing unintentionally within my mind. And at that exact moment, I felt all physical desire escape from my being. The solitary thought dwelling within my head became a sensation of love and compassion. I beheld the response of adoration for her; the unadulterated marvel of comfort.

During a second’s time, my lips descended to meet with hers. The shared affection she provided encouraged my prolonging against my own will to cease. But I without a doubt felt the intensity of love spreading throughout my body. And as our lips departed evenly, we both opened our eyes with anticipation, mine more so than hers, and gazed at one another. The aftermath seemed unquestionably awkward, but also like any other intimate moment we shared. I could sense in her eyes the same affection developing that I have so long come to realize.

I yearned for her to describe exactly what she was feeling. Regrettably, the only reverberation in the ambiance was the sound of ocean waves, clashing against the rocks. I frowned, holding back the apprehension that followed. She could perceive that something was wrong.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, sounding so peacefully elegant. I glanced into her eyes and sighed anxiously. Her long, brown hair blowing lightly in the autumn breeze offered me a recollection of youthful memories, memories that held the very thought of her undying presence. They were the times when we used to be so content. How fragile she appears now.

I wanted to speak sincerity. I promised myself the very thought of revealing to her the certainty of my love for her. All I really called for was the straightforward task of muttering the three little words that would easily bring about the finality of my insecurity.

“Samantha, I love you,” I replied. The unyielding choice of words ensued as a formality. The ineffectiveness that I was indisputably unfamiliar with emerged from my brain without difficulty. The genuine frustration that every male is bound to face at least once in his lifetime came out so clearly. And to deny those blasphemous rumors that love lures a common man to the lowest depths of misery have proven evidently false. These were the words that would alter my life from despondency to absolute ecstasy.
If only it were true.

Samantha’s expression portrayed a recognizable perspective. Suddenly, her deep, blue eyes that were once reflecting the ocean current became obviously disjointed. My mouth released an insignificant amount of air, disrupting my chances of relieving my anxiety. Hoping to unsettle my nerves, I turned away briefly from her gaze. An entire gathering of butterflies began to inhabit the inner walls of my stomach, tormenting me as they twisted against my sensitive feelings. The ocean stream sounded louder than before. The beating of the secular rocks pounded into my brain, against every crucial thought in my head.

“Samantha, I have fallen in love with you,” I unconfidently verbalized the words I was literally trying to say. And for this manifestation, I caused Samantha to become more disillusioned by unsophisticated methods of opening up. Her first reaction was backing away in astonishment. I felt her hand slipped through my fingers like a razor through sheer flesh. The confidence I once tried to uphold converted into an unforgettable dilemma.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked in pure innocence. She strictly identifies with me through physical contact and pleasure. Why should she accept an infatuation from a man who has never reserved any constructive time to converse with her in deep conversation anymore? I never even questioned her middle name.

“We’ve been seeing each other for so long and you have merely become a part of my world. I don’t want to pretend that every waking moment we spend together has been in vain,” I explained. I could feel my eyes dampen with tears. Is this what love truly feels like? The watery droplets expelled from my tear ducts, causing an unfortunate feeling of guilt inside her.

She slowly steps forward and encloses her arms around my fragile body. The tenderness of her skin pressed sympathetically against my figure. I stood there in silence, puzzled by her swift tolerance for my apparent affection. I couldn’t help but to smile at her consolation. Has she accepted my proposal?

“Tell me what we have become,” she asked, lifting her head to be aligned with mine. Her eyes made an effort to hypnotize me with the bright, blue oceans swaying back and forth across her pupils. I predicted my body to descend deeper into those endless pools of sapphire rings, but in spite of everything, I still felt my hands dehydrated.

“I have become the man who wishes to love you,” I answered. How my words pleased me without apologetic notion. I could feel my confidence build up as she continued to embrace my being, but I questioned deeply if her touch was simply guilt.

“Cast your eyes upon the ocean,” she said, releasing her grip on me and pointing outward toward the vastness of the world. The perpetual horizon was dark and mysterious, consisting of shades of blue and black. I inspected the sea for a brief moment and saw nothing but the consistency of waves colliding with the earth’s natural form. I shrugged in unwillingness to respond.

Samantha sighed at the surroundings. She waved her arms across the thin air, deliberately indicating the significance of the watery domain.

“What am I to see?” I asked calmly. I felt my confidence losing its grip.

“Love is like an ocean. Its infinite possibilities can carry us thousand of miles away from here, leading us to paradise somewhere where we have never gone before. But at the same time, it may allow us to drown helplessly without warning.” Although Samantha’s words were rather poetic, my comprehension still contained a gap. I couldn’t help feeling that the negativity contained within her words may soon be the death of me.

“I will never allow you to drown,” I said impatiently at her description. Samantha’s lips forced themselves to smile. The smell of stylish perfume upon her neck drew me closer by the second. Physical attraction started to get the best of me. I needed to focus on the situation at hand and not concern myself with exactly what kept me apart emotionally from her all this time.

“I thought we both decided not to get involved with emotional attraction,” she said, staring out upon the dark horizon that was, for a brief moment, visible by the moonlight. Her tone revealed no indication that she would feel the same for me. I hopelessly sighed to myself, realizing the truth within her words. I recalled the day when we mutually refused to let our feelings get in the way. It was New Year’s Eve, a cold, winter night and the momentous evening we first made love due to the consumption of alcohol and marijuana smoke. It continues to amaze me that our minds, even though clouded with fumes and liquid poisons, still recollect that night.

We were good friends before then. Now, we’ve become something entirely different. Sentimentality quickly abandoned our cause, happiness only existed through the gratification of sex, and the abstract thought of feeling any love for one another proved useless. We used to love each other before we exposed ourselves to the common delusion that sex is merely a physical activity.

“Things change,” I told her without the sound of regret. I communicated with a confident manner, yet my words failed to achieve total certainty. Her eyes motioned themselves away from the sea as they directed themselves toward my direction. At first, she turned down the determination to gaze into my eyes, but as I persisted staring precisely into hers, she gave into the temptation.

And it was then I noticed the grief she bestowed.

She didn’t need to address any words to let me distinguish exactly what she was feeling. I attempted to reassure myself that it was only an illusion, fashioned to stray me away from my dream. Except it wasn’t. The truth was revealed to me so openly I began to cry severely this time. The hurt I professed nonverbally started to tear her up inside. I could sense her pain was far superior. But I didn’t care. My mind only concentrated on my own anguish.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t….forgive me.” Her words echoed from afar as she turned to walk away, leaving me alone in the dead of night. I allowed her to go, but the reality was because I didn’t want to see her face at the moment. I reminded myself of the selfishness building up inside. I admitted my feelings to the one I love, but was it because of my own fear that I didn’t want to carry on a physical relationship anymore? Did I truly love her? I questioned my own feelings, trying to figure out exactly what I needed to express. Emptiness.

The presence of her dark form disappeared into the night. I stood there with no recollection of what just occurred, just the thought of where she was heading. Would she be safe from the night, walking alone in a poorly lit world where anything could happen? The awareness of her safety kicked in, blocking out the negative aspirations that occupied my brain. My instinct forced me to guide myself to her, taking in the sense of being a friend rather than being someone I longed to be.

I noticed her walking slowly along the street, pressing her arms against her chest as if she was feeling cold. I stripped my light jacket from my body and ran to her side, wrapping the soft clothing around her upper body. My tears were gone then, only a grin developing across my lips. She looked up at me and returned the smile. I identified with her facial expression, the kind that would secure any friend with solace. There was no existence of guilt, no appearance of remorse, only the soothing comfort of best friends sharing in one another’s company.

Hardly any words were spoken on the way back home. Samantha felt there was no need for any. I, myself, allowed myself to indulge heavily upon the realization that love can exist in many forms. We were great friends in the past, trying to become something much more, but ending up growing into something far less. I was right after all; I did love her dearly. Although my dreams presented a different approach, I still held onto the same thing I was trying to obtain.

So what if I didn’t get exactly what I wanted at the end? I received something far greater. The endless ability to feel love the way it was meant to. Samantha and I became, in lack of better terms, long-term lovers. Just something entirely different.