Harder
Soooooo, do you remember a blog post I shared a little while ago called I Miss My Twenties? Well, it seems that if you talk about ’em, they’ll pop up.
And pop up he did …
This blog post is dedicated to him.
*****
You always seem to message me on Saturday nights. I’m guessing that’s because Saturday night was always our night. Everyone else would be out partying, but not us. We’d be sat in your car somewhere, talking shit, kissing, touching, listening to music. I’m listening to our music right now. ‘Harder‘ by Kosheen. Do you remember how we’d listen to the ‘Resist‘ album over and over again? That heavy D&B beat pulsing through us as we edged closer and closer, promising that we were just friends again but knowing things would always go much further than that.
Always.
Every time.
If we were in your car right now, listening to this song, I’d be the one that leaned in for the kiss first. I’d reach up and touch your soft, scruffy hair, bringing you closer to me, ignoring the uncomfortable gear stick between us that, somehow, I always managed to bash myself on. I wouldn’t say anything. Neither would you.
You’re one of my biggest regrets. Letting you go the way I did, I mean. I didn’t listen to you, did I? I was so stubborn, so adamant that I knew what was best, always thinking I could find something better. Or just better suited to me. That always would have been hard considering I didn’t know what I wanted. If I’d just opened my eyes for a moment, it probably would have been you and I can list so many reasons why. Not all of them are sex-based, but quite a few of them are.
You were always the most affectionate one. Always wanting to hold my hand, push me through a doorway first, make sure that every girl in the room know that you were mine and mine only, proud as punch that I was your girl and you were my man. Except we never really got that far. You were so proud of me, but I was never sure about you. Not quite. You gave me everything I wanted and then some … but it wasn’t enough. Bizarrely, and for reasons I’ll never understand, I let you slide.
It’s not like you didn’t give me the chance. We tried our ‘thing’ a few times because you really did want it to work. For some reason, it didn’t matter what I did to you, you’d always forgive me and take me back. But it never worked. Something just didn’t fit quite right. I always thought that bigger and better things might come around the corner for both of us. They did, in some ways. Could you seriously have imagined yourself marrying me? You and your fiancee are a great match and I’m definitely happy with the man I have right now, but, you know, what if … ?
What if I hadn’t kept you at arm’s length the whole time? What if I’d let you in? What if I’d taken a step back and realised all the things you did do and were willing to do for me? What if we’d done what we both thought about doing that final evening we went for pizza, when you told me that things were getting serious with your new girlfriend?
What if?
What if we relived that night we pulled up to your Dad’s gated work car park after everyone had left and you let us in with the code he didn’t think you remembered? Do you remember that night? I can. I remember it like it was yesterday. I lied when I told you I didn’t remember a lot from back then. When you asked me what I remembered the most, that night in that car park was the first thing that popped into my mind.
“There’s no one around, no CCTV or nothing, we’ll be fine here.”
That’s what you said. I can remember every syllable. I still laugh when I think about the silly little run you did from the gate’s dial pad to the driver’s seat of the car, your jeans hanging down under your ass like they always did. And the boyish grin you had on your face when you realised what opening that gate meant — what we were about to actually do. I can even remember the smell of your car air freshener hanging down from the rearview mirror, and ‘Slip & Slide (Suicide)’ playing as we found a place to park that wasn’t lit up by the tall lights. Most of all, though, I can remember the fluttering in my stomach I felt when you looked right at me, excitedly. Those adoring, goofy, puppy dog eyes. You have beautiful eyes. I don’t know if I ever told you that. I don’t think I did. I don’t think I was very nice to you at all. Not really.
I should have treated you a bit warmer.
~ Harder, Kosheen
I’d love to go back to that night outside your Dad’s work, just for one more greedy night. Everything felt super intense with you. Every touch. Every look. Every word. Nothing else existed when we were together, no one else, just you and I, coming together in a clash of immature emotions, scrambling to pull each other into the back seat and do things we shouldn’t do.
Do you remember when I hit my head on the window as we tried to take my jeans off? I barely felt it, young lust driving me as I furiously tried to get to the buckle of your belt as you fumbled around with my zipper. You always wore the most ridiculous belts. I could never get them undone. Just like that night, when I got frustrated and you needed to give me a hand.
Do you want to know what else I remember perfectly? That moment — that EXACT moment — your cock entered me for the first time. I straddled you on the back seat, steadying myself with one hand on the window, leaving a Titanic-like impression in the condensation, before slowly lowering myself down onto you. I remember the way you threw your head back, exhaling with a loud, breathy moan; how it felt when my skin exploded with goosebumps, cliche ripples of agonising bliss blazing through each of my limbs; and the way we came at the same time, barely eight minutes later, writhing clumsily together in a way that replays in my head much more erotically than I can convey.
Yours was the kind of sex that required no gimmicks. No muss, no fuss, just throw down and play. You were so erotic, so sensual, a bit clumsy, not quite understanding me 100% but willing to learn — and a fast learner. We were both young and dumb back then, but still, we had each other figured out. I’m pretty sure the drugs and alcohol played a big part in that; we had absolutely no inhibitions around each other. I showed you what I liked and you showed me what you liked and from that … well, we explored. Teased. Tortured. Drove each other crazy. In your car, my bed, your bed, your garage, hotels, clubs, restaurants, on the stairs while your parents were asleep in the room next to us, car parks, it honestly didn’t matter. We sizzled anywhere, all the time, any time.
Those are the kind of memories that the mind stores forever. My mind has. I remember so many moments, so many memories, so many amazing times. Like when you drew my portrait and got too distracted to finish it, or when we tried to pretend to your entire family that we weren’t off our heads and went upstairs to silently and stickily fuck the rest of the day away instead.
I don’t know if I’m in your wank bank, but honey, you’re sure as hell in mine.
I know our time is done now. I hope more than anything that life is being really good to you. I hope your wedding goes exactly to plan and the house renovations go well and the family comes along, just as everyone hopes. But, you know, if there’s ever a magic little pill that’ll let me go back to any point in time, without repercussions, a night with you would be what I’d choose right now.
I won’t forget you
I won’t
I won’t forget your smile
Or how you taken me
Oh how you taken me
~ ‘Let Go’ Kosheen
P.S. Please stop texting me on Saturday nights. Everyone knows that forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest … and I’ve got a hella sweet tooth right now.
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