Kisses

He didn't like mawkish displays of sentimentality. Definitely not a hand-holder. No flowers for Valentine's Day. And kisses at the stroke of midnight on New Year's were out.

And I loved him, or at least I was pretty sure I did, so I didn't try to press the point. We would fuck like rabbits after the ball dropped and I was okay with that. The first New Year I spent with him, he rented a hotel room, we watched about one minute of the festivities, and then he was up my ass, hard, for hours. I'm pretty sure he took something to stay so hard, because it was pretty atypical. Not that he was a bad lover, just that he usually needed some recuperation before going again, but that New Year he just stayed hard and only pulled out of my ass to switch positions.

And sex is like kissing, right?

After it ended, I realized a lot of things. Well, I realized some of them before it ended, which is why it ended. But I realized that I like romance. I may be cynical, I may be hard-bitten by life, and I may not admit it to most people I know, but I believe in romantic love. I also believe in other kinds of love, and that other kinds of love can be expressed physically, but I definitely believe in kissing under the mistletoe and on New Year's Eve and flowers on Valentine's Day (not that I require them, just that I appreciate them) and dates and holding hands and all the stuff that he didn't like.

The first year, I tried to prove it. I kissed under the mistletoe; hell, I bought actual live mistletoe and hung it up just so I could kiss under it. I held hands with anyone who'd let me. And I made a date for New Year's Eve with the specific goal of kissing at midnight.

And it was okay. But it wasn't right. It was vengeful and kind of stupid and I was trying too hard. But it scared me, because I was hoping for fireworks and all I got was just some kiss with someone I didn't care all that much about. Maybe he was right. Maybe romance was silly. Maybe sex and love were important, and romance was just Hallmark bullshit.

So I myself steered clear of romance. I did it sometimes because I really wanted to, but I always couched it in mockery, and I'm pretty sure I ruined a fair number of moments that way.

Then one day I was holding hands with someone and I suddenly started crying. I wasn't missing romance, I was missing love. The romance should come from the love, not in spite of it. Needless to say, this freaked my partner at the time out, but it wasn't that serious, and we had a few times after that which were fun without me going off on crying jags.

Now I kiss on New Year's Eve if I'm with someone I love. I'm planning on kissing Sveta this New Year's, as well as other people, although Sveta will get pride of place. And in New Years past, I've kissed people out of love or just lust or as a joke, but I haven't tried to make it something other than it is. It's just mawkish sentimentality, after all. The feeling behind it is what counts.

I'm not sure if I forgive him or not, but I don't hold him any ill will because he didn't want to be romantic like that. I just wish that I'd known what I wanted, and that I could have told him. I doubt it would have changed his mind. That, I have a harder time forgiving him for.