bittersweet

I got invited to a party last week. I’d heard the plans being made around me, that is in my general vicinity, for the last few weeks and had done my best to tune them out. The whole thing was so clearly not my cup of tea. Then at the last minute I got invited. You know how there are some couples of which you like the one better than the other? That’s the couple that put this shindig together, and as much as I enjoy his company, she makes me nuts. Unsurprisingly, the invitation came from him. He called me up at the eleventh hour and asked if I’d do them a favor and join in. With some reluctance, I agreed. After I accepted, she wasted no time in letting me know that they had asked several other people, but no one else could make it so I was their last resort. Whoopee. Glad to know I rate the bottom of your list.

But I was in no way prepared for what actually happened. I showed up in the appointed place at the appointed hour only to find myself on a blind date with a former lover. For a moment, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs, my stomach dipped and twisted, and my heart, oh! my heart ached in that pleasant way it hasn’t ached in years.

I had no idea I still felt that way. I never really expected we’d meet again. Sure, I have fond memories and the occasional fantasy, but c’mon…really? In fact, in recent years I’d begun to wonder if it had ever been as good I remember it being between us. Time distorts recollections; the good becomes better, the bad becomes worse, and the bland and mediocre just recede into the distance until it is easy to convince yourself that while the good was fantastic, it wasn’t worth the pain that came later. You were smart to walk away when you did.

Still, there I was surrounded by strangers and casual friends--none of whom had the slightest clue that Pandora’s box had just broken open at their feet. It was astonishingly easy to slip back into the old routine. The easy gestures and teasing banter that flow so smoothly between us came back effortlessly. We slid in and out between the mingling guests, sharing our private jokes, slyly preening for one another, and testing the waters for new depths after all these years. We fit together like flesh and bone, like surf and shore—move and countermove playing against one another in a seduction that until that moment I believed no longer held any lure for me.

It shocks me now to think that I ever thought anyone was unaware of what was between us. I don’t know how I ever managed to convince myself that this was a private thing that, if not exactly secret, was knowledge held only by a select few. Naïveté or youthful self-absorption convinced me that I could hide the bright light of our passion, mask or smother it, or simply disguise it as something else entirely. It shocks me more to realize that I had persuaded myself that the flames burned out at least two lifetimes ago. It stuns me to learn that the smoldering embers awaited nothing more than to have the flue opened and new air rush in.

We played our flirtatious game never mentioning how or where we’d met. It was too quickly obvious we had a long and intimate acquaintance, and none of the others cared to admit it came as a surprise to them. Instead, a word would be dropped in my ear in passing. “Wow! I had no idea…it looks like you’ve found a new interest…really suits you…I’ve never seen you like this.” And then from my reluctant hostess, “I’m so glad you’re here. We wanted you all along.”

At the last, I began to feel naked, exposed, and then I slowly shattered into tainted pieces. Those deceptions and lies, they were a big part of the reason I walked away before. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t build my life in this sea of duplicity. Yet here I was once again at sea and this time without anchor or rudder, star or compass, and all around me the siren’s call, “You look fantastic…you’re the best…wanted you all along…yes, yes, just like that…so natural, so right…I love the way you…really good…beautiful…the best.”

What a fool I am! So easily seduced by my own vanity, so quickly convinced of my own allure. For a moment I once again believed that this was a private game we played, rather than a spectator sport. In the venomous embrace of nostalgia I forgot for a moment that our every kiss and every argument had been played in front of an eager audience and that between us intimacy was the biggest lie of all. Idiot! Moron! Yet even as I castigated myself for my stupidity, blood pumped hotly through my veins tempting me to taste just a bit more of that delectable poison, to take just one more bittersweet drop upon my tongue.