My Crush Is Waning

I was so ecstatic I couldn't think. A few weeks ago, you squeezed me to keep me warm as we went hunting for taquerias, and when we said our good night you kissed me - a light and accidental brush at the corner of my lips. And when the giddiness passed, I was perfectly happy. I didn't want anything else. I was even content that I couldn't have you, because the thought alone of you was so beautiful and untouchable.

I spend my days with people who talk about spouses and children, and I even went to a wedding, but I'm not agitated. Somehow, I feel less of my usual fear that I will die alone: if I died alone I could dream of you until my end. I dream of you quietly. I spend all my days working, driving, sleeping, and forgetting to make time for friends or love - I'm a hermit. I'm amazed that I am not more restless.

I wondered how long I could stay this happy, so unconcerned that I was descending into the twilight of my youth without having prepared any of the comforts that would shelter me in my middle age. I was strong and indifferent because I loved you. And as soon as I admitted it, I think the magic began to wane. I still feel peaceful, but I know it won't last long because I love you less than I did a few days before.

I confess I'm surprised at how ephemeral it was to love you, because I loved you for so long before you kissed me. My experience of love's radioactive decay is sometimes measured in years: I can clutch the slightest memory and make is radiate love through famines. I thought I would have continued loving you. But I recognize that this too is passing, and though I'm baffled at my fading passion, I mark the occasion and face a colder day. The ghost of your kiss still keeps me calm (yet), and I linger on it this moment with gratitude and regret.