24 9 / 2012
Everything escalated from that weekend. We’d opened the gates and there was no going back anymore - not that either of us seemed to want to take any steps backwards anyway.
I tried not to brag about us but couldn’t keep everything to myself. Of course I told our now mutual friends about the piece we went to see another weekend quite ex tempore, casually mentioning it was with Her again. The piece in question sucked so badly that She spent the two hours (no intermission) yawning and checking my wrist watch, which would have distracted me if I’d had any interest left for the stupid piece to begin with.
The change in Her didn’t go unnoticed. The friends hadn’t for a long time bothered to invite her to the cultural events that they (or we after I got adopted to the group) liked to attend because she always went away for the weekends, but now she was suddenly asked along too, because “she seems to stay here nowadays, for you”.
Yes she did. For me.
23 9 / 2012
Eventually we went out. She mentioned that a friend of hers had a piece performed at a small stage and we mutually agreed to go together as if it was the most natural choice in the world. Us. Together.
It was a weekend around the time when autumn turned into winter, her birthday had been earlier that week. She picked me up and I laughed at her new minivan, calling her my own personal bus driver. We drove around completely lost for a while, joking about the situation, got there in time for the performance though. Met a couple of friends, coincidentally also there. We acted like an old happily married couple.
I was happier than ever before. It was a perfect evening. It also marked a mental turning point between us. It was the first weekend that she stayed in the city - for me - instead of leaving for her partner in another town.
23 9 / 2012
For a couple of years now I’ve been feeling this inexplicable homesickness here. After all, I’ve lived here and called it home for over a decade now so this should feel like one.
Writing this made me finally see it. I just typed it as a stream of consciousness - and called Her as my finally found home. This homesickness started when she left me. It all makes sense now. That is exactly why I’m writing this story down here, no matter if anyone reads it or not.
Lately I’ve come to consider moving back to my old hometown, toying with the idea. Growing up there I hated the whole town, despised everything about it, counted years ‘til I’d get away. Now it’s the place where I most feel like belonging.
But then again. I still have these irrational hopes of maybe someday running into Her and everything suddenly being all right (I’ve seen her now and then but it’s always been about mutual avoidance, so…). Leaving would mean losing all hope - not that it isn’t lost already. Besides I have my studies here, my apartment here, and have just found an amazing great dance teacher.
Whom I have a small crush on and therefore, after what happened with Her, I keep my distance.
So I’m staying. I doubt I’d feel more home anywhere else after all. Because of Her. Because I lost Her.
22 9 / 2012
There were times when I didn’t like Her. I didn’t approve some of her methods. Many treats of hers drove me crazy. I couldn’t comprehend why she stayed together with her partner.
But even at those times, at all times I always loved her. I sat in on those of her classes I didn’t attend and cringed at what she said and yet adored her. She said we complemented eachother, but some of the differences were almost unbearable at times. Still I was never uncertain of loving her.
That was when I realized that you don’t really love someone before you love also the parts of them you don’t like.
The most important thing to make me dislike her though was the fact that she wasn’t all mine, and yet I compared each and every one I met to her. And they would never add up anywhere close to her. She was the air that I breathed, every thought in my head and in every move I made. She was my teacher, my mentor, my dear friend and my love.
20 9 / 2012
We started find more and more time together. We’d walk together from class to the bus station. We’d hop on to whose ever bus left first and sit on it together until the other one finally had to hop off and change. Or we’d hop on any bus and take it to some stop where we both could change to ones that’d take us home respectively.
We’d walk together and she’d take my hand to pull me across a street after her. We’d walk together hand in hand just for no reason. We’d laugh, we’d talk about everything. We’d talk about everything except what was between us. She’d joke how she was old enough to be my mother and I’d state that in that case she’d have to have been very young to have me.
I’d get jealous. I’d get extremely jealous in class and throw tantrums if I felt neglected by her, if I felt someone else was getting too much attention. Not that it happened often, though, because it was mostly about me. She’d make us work in pairs in class and when my pair would ask me for something and not listen to the advice she’d take out on the poor girl. She’d call me her memory, her brain. I’d defend her to anyone who dared to critisize her.
Another teacher of mine would start asking me about her, how she was and what was she up to. I’d start lingering in the teachers’ locker room - no students allowed - after classes. Even those colleagues of hers whose classes I’d never been to would start saying hi to me.
If she needed an assistant for class, she’d take me. And when she was ill: “I’m opposed to using students as substitute teachers but I want you to cover for me for my classes.”
We’d start texting. We’d text about the moon and the stars and if she wasn’t around for a bus trip messages would travel back and forth about the night sky.
I’d drown in her blue eyes over and over again.
19 9 / 2012
Six months after I fell for her, almost five months after I first met her, I spent a week at a training camp. Every day I missed Her. If I hadn’t really understood before, then and thereafter there was absolutely no doubt about my feelings anymore.
After the camp there were only a couple of days of classes left before summer break. At the end of the very last class she crossed a line she professionally shouldn’t have. In an exercise, when no one else saw, she pressed her face in my neck for a while, presumably as long as she dared.
The world around us vanished. My heart stopped beating. It was only her, her warmth, her breath, her heartbeat, her body against mine.
Then we parted for the summer, for seven long weeks.
18 9 / 2012
After the first encounter I settled for admiring Her in awe from distance. She was so out of my league, strong, charismatic, amazing, that I was intimidated by even the mere thought of trying to talk to her.
It was her who initiated the approach. I cannot remember what she said to me but I remember the situation, the place. In an elevator on our way to class. I remember smiles, my not being able to form proper sentences to reply. The overwhelming happiness.
In the same elevator I later also learned that she had, quote, a life partner, which crushed me and left me confused over my devastation. It was not like I was planning a relationship with her. Anything with her was too far beyond my reach to even think about, so it really shouldn’t be any of my business if she was sharing her life with someone or not.
Whatever the circumstances, something started developing. Slowly, but so naturally and - as the postmodern (or postpost-? I’ve lost track.) dance artists would say - organically that before I knew it, I was comfortable with her. No longer intimidated.