The Chapters: Cowboy Kush Explodes
Cowboy Kush, the man, the candle.
I drove off the highway turning right, left and then right again onto Hope St. My silver Prius blending in with the whitish-grey sky only split apart by the drizzly drops on my window as I peek out onto the busy sidewalk. Seven-ten on a Saturday evening and the rain doesn't stop the Williamsburg crowds from strolling down the streets with their friends and lovers; bar hopping, dining, cozying up in their living rooms. That's what I was doing two weeks ago, with Cowboy Kush, watching the opening F1 race.
Not today, today I drive down the street aching for a bite of brisket from The Commodore. I can't tell what I crave more, a bite of brisket dipped in jus or a moment more with his bright eyes taking in the photons that reflect off my rosy cheeks.
The Brisket dip sandwich has been on my mind since our last night together. Only after I turned onto Hope St did I realize that was exactly what I was holding onto -- hope. Hope that I would move on and find love, hope that maybe I would run into him and he'd cheerfully ask me to come over, hope that this sandwich would quench my thirst.
Be-. I mean, Cowboy Kush, was the type of person that sews his own silver lining, paints his own love, and this drew me in. His acceptance is that which I worked to give myself. Was his self-love a product of overcoming trial and hardship? Or was it from healthy family dynamics? It could not have been the latter as he alluded to parents who bickered and a brother with Bipolar Disorder. BPSD is more common than I had realized. To be not alone in experiencing a loved one go through this is comforting.
Beyond a family member with mood swings we also both loved wine, cooking, eating, we had both dabbled in clothing design and sustainable fashion, as well as sports. Seems like the typical things people enjoy and share in common as food is what keeps us alive and clothes is what keeps out bodies safe. I wish we could explore this with each other more.
It ended faster than a lap of professional race car drivers could run a lap. Without warning, the energy dissipated and being in each other's company began to feel awkward. An all-too familiar pattern, I knew what came next. The "sorry, work is busy this week" and " I am super tired this weekend" with no plans for the future. Three weeks of glorious, casual sex went by and how did it end you ask? After a viewing of Anora. You know the film where a European millionaire son marries a sex worker only two abandon her to be taken back to Europe to work for his family. Did he ever care about his new wife? Was he only looking for a short-term casual relationship? My head exploded with confusion. Why were we going on a date and why did we watch Anora on our first date? Either way we walked back to the apartment silently and in discomfort I wondered what this all meant? Was he trying to communicate to me that he no longer wanted to see me or that I was a mere 2-week long escapade, like a sex-worker wife in his life? I was lost for words... so much so I must have seemed like the most boring person on earth. What was I supposed to say after that? I had critiques of the film but my emotions took center stage.
We got back to his apartment and ordered food -- that is when I tried the Brisket Sandwich for the first time -- and I loved stuffing my face, naked on his couch with our makeshift tv dinner set up watching the first race of the season. He shared so much of himself with me, I got invited into his apartment and his world. There was never really room for me except for my bits, casually.
I stayed the night after a few rounds of being in the saddle. He said the bed was for sleeping and thought he may have been joking I took those orders seriously. Despite my horniness I forced myself to lay there, eyes shut, tossing and turning. Was I more disturbed by the throbbing or my confused heart. Did he like me? I surely liked him! I was at least having fun. He was kind, playful, light-hearted, and he was open to sharing himself freely. I half slept through the night after giving him an arm massage which he didn't feel he had dissolved. He was right. But that's the thing about me. I am a lover, I am generous with my gentle touch and I craved his skin and his affection, but rather than ask for it, I figured to give was just as rewarding.
In the morning I woke from a light nap and Ben grabbed me water asking what else he could do to help me get ready to leave. I asked him for... him. He wondered why I had waited all night for some loving and I honestly wondered as well. He was quick and careless with it but it was still so nice. He made me cum several times that morning. Little did I know it would be the last time he gifted me such pleasures.
The first time I met him, he was energetic, but sat at a distance on the couch. Almost nervous-like, he kept space between us, It wasn't until we started talking about middle eastern cuisine that we got close on the couch to share a phone screen as we googled. As soon as I nestled my head on his shoulder POW! Something had exploded. It took us a moment to realize what had happened; we looked over to the dining table where a candle had been left burning and now a flame flickered on a coaster, unbothered by the dark brown glass pieces shattered around the light. What sustained the flame was beyond me. We sprung up to put out the light and clean up. Thank fully we caught it before it caught onto the wood table or worse, the fabric on the corner booth seating. Shortly after cleaning up the candle mishap, the books in the kitchen flopped off the shelf and onto the counter making a loud bang. Was it a sign of the energy between us or a warning to stop? I was unfazed and wanted to see things through.
Kisses, cuddles and lots of grinding later, I excused myself and hoped to see him again, when I wasn't menstruating. I think it helped to build up the excitement, but I wanted him badly! Our second fling, I hardly remember but I believe it started with chatting, sushi and me spilling soy sauce which I freaked out about while he laughed and cheerfully cleaned up the spill. Reminders that all work out and that I shouldn't worry about the trivial things. Our date of course ended after hours of sex and making out. Not to mention him picking me up while I straddled his chest and thrusting into me as he stood up. Fun, hot, unexpected. A adrenaline rush that ended with him offering to clean my glasses which had gotten a bit smudged before I had a chance to take them off that evening. We knew we wanted to see each other again.
You know that phrase, "Third time's the charm?" Well, it wasn't. It was the last strike. He had decided that I simply didn't add to his life in the way he wanted. It is hard to say if it was the texting we did leading up to the third date or the third date itself but somewhere along the week the bubbles fizzled out and the only thing keeping us together was the Cosmos. He claimed to be really stressed at work and just not as excited as he had been in the beginning. His honesty and transparency was intoxicating. You know how easy it is to move on from a guy who sucks and is immature? Well Cowboy Kush wasn't that guy. He was incredibly sweet and it's the kind of sweetness that makes you teeth hurt.
I didn't get to see his tulips, or borrow his sewing machine. All the ideas for cooking together, shot! He didn't even get to see my weird side. I am not sure what I was expecting but I hoped for more. When someone isn't attracted to you, you shouldn't be attracted to them, right? Why want someone who doesn't have an interest in you? I aspire to get up and walk away as quick as I fall. I do move on quickly, physically, but emotionally, I experience heavy grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, depression and acceptance. All of it. But mostly, sitting with all the things I miss and wished we could have done, like talking about aliens and space, making pasta and sushi, sharing our art, building and herbarium, simply fucking some more, drink wine, paint with the color yellow, fasting processed sugars.
Mostly, I miss having someone to experience the pleasures and fun of life with. Cowboy Kush was gone with the wind, ironically. We were both air signs, Geminis and ruled by air, we truly do change moods and interest with the wind. That is all it was. A ruling made in the heavens.
Like the Big Bang, like the candle exploding, and like an Alien abduction. A process of energy, space and time.
C'est fini.
