Twue Wuv - short story, not poetry -- The Fiercest Calm

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 06:40:55 09/19/03 Fri
Author: the Lady
Subject: Twue Wuv - short story, not poetry

I sat and read Robert Fulghum's book True Love last night. He asked for some true love stories. It ahd to be real, and it had to be mine... and so I wrote this one, and mailed it this morning... Just thought I'd share.

As a sophomore at Northeastern University, I dated a shy and confused boy from Boston. Our relationship was not meant to be, and it never survived me transferring to Plymouth State College, a small school in my home state of New Hampshire. My family lived near my new school, and so I lived at home and commuted the half hour to classes. For my first year there as a Theatre Design major, (as a junior) I made several acquaintances, but had trouble making real friends. It was not the fault of those around me, I had moved so many times in my life with my family, only to lose my friends again and again, that I had given up trying. I had never felt so alone and so very lonely all at once as I did that year of college. When looking for summer work at the end of that first year, I listened to the urging of two of my teachers and accepted a job in the Costume Shop at a small summer stock theatre in Tamworth NH. Five other Plymouth State theatre majors were going to work there too, and so we bonded in friendship the way that only spending 18 hours a day together, working, eating, sweating, laughing, and drinking, in the dead of July and August can bring about.

One of these new friends was a man named Matthew. I had seen him at school, we exchanged pleasantries and information about classes, but I had never really talked to him. The summer changed that. We discussed everything from philosophy and film, to love and how to make cottage cheese. After that summer ended, we were back in classes, but I still felt connected to him. We had many late night talks over the internet, spent time together with our mutual friends, and over the ensuing semester, Matt became the closest friend I had. We counseled one another through the pitfalls of college and bouts of self doubt, but mostly we made one another comfortable, and we made one another laugh. It may well be his laugh that I love the most about Matt. When he laughs his blue eyes light up in a twinkling way that reminds me of my father mixed up with childhood visions of Santa Claus. I love the way his laugh rings out over the din of whatever is going on, even a busy scene shop full of working carpenters; the way you can hear absolute honesty in it. It Matt thinks something is funny, you�ll know it, and if he doesn�t, you�ll still know it, because you won�t hear that utterly joyful sound.

Over Winter Break I went to a party at Matt�s apartment one night, surrounded by the new friends I had finally allowed myself to make. Sometime in the wee small hours of the morning, it was time to leave, but I couldn�t say leave without saying goodbye to Matt. I found him in his room, talking with a friend. I said I was leaving, and just needed to say goodnight, and walked over to give him a hug. I felt his arms wrap around me, and he buried his head in my chest. So as not to embarrass him in front of others, I whispered, �I love you Matt�, and for the first time, he said the words that would always stop my heart, �I love you Jennie.� As I leaned over to kiss my friend�s forehead, but instead he leaned up, looked me in the eyes, and we kissed. Softly on the lips, and my heart didn�t slow down for days.

Filled with self doubt, and assuring myself it was the drinks we had each had that night, I dismissed the kiss. Sure Matt loved me only in friendship; what man could ever care about me as more than that? A few weeks later, I found myself at another party with him. I was upset, and drank a little more than I should have. Soon we were sitting next to one another at the top of the stairs, a little too drunk to go down them. We talked about everything that night, and I realized just how much I had truly fallen in love with him, with the man who had become my best friend. I lay my head in his lap, and closed my eyes, trying to make the tears that were welling up there pass. Falling in love with my best friend was so wonderful, but I thought it was hopeless, convinced to the core that he could only see me as a friend.

As I lay there, I suddenly heard Matt�s voice talking softly to himself. �Matt, you cannot take advantage of Jennie. You are a good guy. That would be wrong. You cannot take advantage of her in this state, she�s drunk, it�s not right. She probably doesn�t even think of you that way.� He rambled on in this fashion for a moment until a voice clicked in my head saying �Jennie, wake up! He does think about you that way! Try with him! Try before you live to regret never telling him how you feel!� I sat up, and in a moment of slightly inebriated courage stated quite simply, �Matt, I�m drunk, but not deaf. And if you won�t take advantage of me, then I�ll have to take advantage of you.� I kissed him. I kissed my best friend for two hours. He walked me back to where I was staying that night, and before I knew it, we were dating.

I had fallen in love before, my romantic young heart was not new to that butterfly feeling, but this time was �the-first-time-it-really-mattered.� Matt will always be the love of my life, the man I compare every other I meet to. He is my best friend, my counselor and confidant, my shining knight and my jester, and the man who still makes my heart skip a beat every time his eyes twinkle as he laughs or whispers �I love you,� over a long warm hug, you know the kind I�m talking about, those ones where when everything is wrong, you feel like it just might be okay.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]