406- Death by neglect.

A couple of weekends ago, I had plans to go out with D and I was looking forward to it. Really looking forward to it. It seemed that, at the time we were spending less and less time together. Talking less and less. Life happens, yes. Call me a girl but I like it when I get to spend time with someone that I like. I like touching them, seeing them, talking to them and so on.

None of my senses were being satisfied by D because of busy and conflicting schedules. So after looking forward to spending time with him and it being a while since we last did. I took extra care of myself. I prepared myself, mentally and physically. I took the process of getting ready for the night out and turned it to anticipation. With the application of lotion on my body, I thought of his hands touching me everywhere, feeling and enjoying the feel of how silky smooth everything is to touch. With the stroke of color against my lips and cheeks I thought of what it would look like a little bit smeared as we kissed. While slipping on a brand new pair of stilettos I imagined the line of my body pressed against his while  only wearing the shoes. I admired the line of my naked body and what the shoes did for it and debated what to wear. Carefully choosing something that left the imagination wondering what I had on underneath. I dressed. 

And I wondered at how I was going to make it out in public if my libido took over before being seen with him. Out. In public. Anticipation, I told myself its all part of it. And at the end of the night and after being teased throughout the evening. Alone together in the bedroom is where we can relish in coming together in a mad rush of want. Of bodies pressed against each other, of nibbles and licks throughout and all over each others bodies. Hands exploring and tongues dueling. I looked forward to it all. I imagined it all happening as they have in the past and I looked forward to the night. 

I took satisfaction in the product of my preparations. Hair soft and silky flowing down my back and framing my face where I applied minimal color, only emphasizing my eyes and lips. A little fragrance applied to various locations on my body like behind my ears and in between my breasts. 

I let my imagination play out scenarios. I wondered if we would make it out of the house before tearing our clothes off. Its happened before. Maybe again? Perhaps. Maybe we'll go out and enjoy each other as usual and heighten the want and need in each other that we find a secluded area and come together in silent oblivion. Could we wait until we come back and leave a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom. Would we make it to the bedroom even? Anything is possible. That thought made me smile. 

That smile was taken away by the long wait of nothing. Not a phone call, not a text, not a doorbell ringing. All the anticipation, for nothing. All the preparation, for no one. 

A little part of me died that night. A part that was special and just for D. I realized in the time that I waited for something, anything that I was in a quasi relationship by myself.. with D. I knew and realized that we werent 'together' together. That when we met and decided it would be light and fun. Good times. I realized that night that it wasnt that anymore. It became something else, something that I didnt agree to and something that I no longer recognized or wanted. 

So I decided that night to let things die between us. I wouldnt go out of my way to make things happen, make things good or special. I would just... plainly... leave things alone. I wouldnt yell or scream or be 'that girl' I would just let things .... die. Let things become what they really were and that was nothing special. 

Since that night I havent talked to him. He hasnt called me to apologize or explain what happened. Or if he has called theres been no messages left to listen to. I havent called him either, theres nothing for me to talk about. Something in me died that night for him, for us. So I feel no emotion when I think of talking to him. There would be no emotion behind my words if we did speak. Death by neglect. Thats how it feels. For something that I thought was special, I have received texts from him to the effect of 'hope you have a nice day' , where I replied you too and some  'thinking of you' which I dont reply to. My replies have been 4 words or less usually consisting of 'thanks you too' 

But now and for the last few days I wonder how Im to mourn this loss. Do I climb into myself and closet myself away from life. Do I go out and use someone elses body to help me forget or do I let time heal. Perhaps it will be a mix of the options above.