Jan 12, 2014

A Night With A Stranger

I couldn’t sleep.

I found myself sitting on the side of my bed – a familiar place, lost, alone and wondering how my life had gone so off track.

I needed to escape the four walls of the small loft that had become my living space but not my home.

I closed the cage to the elevator and took a left out of my building and then a sharp right onto St. Laurent.

I made my way to an all-night diner for people like me who find themselves wide awake while everyone else sleeps. All members of a club with no name and only one rule; don't judge because there is a very thin line between me being you and you being me.

I was in need of comfort food. I was in need of a gentle hand stroking my back and a soft reassuring voice saying "it's all going to be alright". 

And as much as it scared me, I knew what I was really there for - I needed to hold someone and be held. I needed to spend time with someone who knew nothing about me and who wouldn't ask the questions everyone asks.

I needed someone to stay without leaving and leave without staying.

Two stools down the counter, sipping coffee and reading an old messed up copy of “Beautiful Losers” by Leonard Cohen; sat a attractive man with salt and pepper hair. He was wearing a white t-shirt, faded Levis and Converse runners. His arms were graced in tattoo half sleeves, his biceps defined, his veins alert.

The funny thing is when two people know exactly what they want without all the bullshit and guessing; it takes very little time to make it happen. 

So with very few words, we left the diner and headed back to my place.

It was raining.

We were soaked to the skin by the time we arrived so we undressed immediately and met in the middle of the futon.

He kissed me with full lips as his tongue explored my mouth. I kissed his neck and moved my way along his body.

I smelled him the way you smell someone the first time you are naked with them – breathing heavily, bare and beautiful.

I tasted him - sweet and smooth.

We rocked back and forth, his hands gently caressing me as if we had been lovers for years caring for one another whenever the world was cruel.

The barter complete, in each other's arms, no prying into the other's life, no judgment or assumptions, nothing but two people breathing in and out.

We fell asleep, our hearts beating in unison - masters of our souls. 

An hour passed and we began again.

A rhythmic waltz transcending our minds to a much better place away from the noise simmering everything down to a whisper.

He held me closely and carefully as if he would never let me go. Awakened were parts of ourselves that otherwise would sleep in a dark oblivion.

We hugged, kissed, sipped coffee and smiled with little to say sitting upward on the couch now disconnected, barely co-existing.

He kissed me one last time and vanished behind the closed door as if it never opened.

For those few hours he made me feel whole, the scent of him still in my pores, the suds unable to wash him away. 

I fell asleep wishing he was still holding me - his taste still upon my tongue - all the while knowing I would wake up the next morning on empty again.

So I say this to you - reading - 

This never happened to me except for once or twice in another place and time. Maybe this is your story as much as it is mine.

In the beginning or the middle and certainly in the end




For someone to come and reveal a slice of light

Upon our lonely blank canvas

If even for a moment

In our darkest hour


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