I Wanted Her

    I wanted her; it was as simple as that. I met Trish at a bar one late October night; she was the bartender and a friend of my aunt’s. From the moment I saw her, with her shoulder length dark hair, fair skin, and deep chocolate eyes, I knew I had to have her. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but I was struck by her. When she spoke to me, all I heard was a choir of angels singing. She had to lean in close to be heard over the music and her scent was intoxicating. When she smiled, night became day. And her eyes, dancing with mirth, were mesmerizing. She winked at me and I felt my heart flutter. My senses were completely overwhelmed by her presence. God I wanted her.

    Then in walked her girlfriend; a slim woman with large breasts and long blonde hair. I was instantly struck by the green eyed monster and wondered if she was prettier than me. When the girl leaned across the bar and kissed Trish lightly on the lips, it was like someone punched me in the stomach. I decided then and there that I would find some way to prove I was better; that I was what she needed. It didn’t matter to me that she was taken or that I’d never really been interested in a woman before. I wanted her and that was all I cared about.

    I forced my aunt to go to the bar with me almost every night, which, believe me, was not a hardship for her. She liked to drink way more than I did. After a few weeks, Trish and I became friends and I started going alone. We talked about everything under the sun; mundane and deep. The more time we spent together, the more I knew we were perfect for one another. Then one night it happened; the bar was slow, only a few regulars, so she asked me to go outside with her. She said she wanted to show me something amazing. And amazing it was. We walked around to the side of the dimly lit building and she gently pushed me against the wall; arms on either side of me, pinning me in place. Slowly she lowered her head until her lips were just inches from mine. I wanted this so badly. I licked my suddenly dry lips as I stared into the chocolate orbs of her eyes that had locked with mine. I had made out with my friends on many a dare, but I knew this was going to be very different. I was right. When her lips touched mine, it was electric. When she swirled our tongues together my knees went weak. And when she called me baby my heart beat out of control. I took her home that night and she made me forget every lover that had come before her. God I wanted her.

The war for her love was hard fought; including a karaoke battle between Your Nobody Called Today by Crystal Gayle and I Don’t Like Your Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne. Eventually, after about a month, I won and she was mine. I had never been happier. I became obsessed with my girl. My every waking moment was dedicated to her and she was the star of all my dreams. I spent every minute I could with her; it was like nothing and no one else mattered.

I found out early on that Trish was an alcoholic, but I made excuses for her drinking. Instead of helping her, I emulated her. It was the same when I found out she did drugs; meth was her preference, so it became mine. It didn’t matter that I’d only ever smoked pot before and promised myself that I’d never do anything like that again. I needed her to think I was cool, that I could hang with her and her friends, that she’d made the right decision when she chose me, because god I wanted her.

It’s said that if they cheat with you, they’ll cheat on you, but not my Trish. She would never do something like that. She loved me. It was six months in when it started; the whispers, the innuendos, the rumors that she wasn’t being faithful. I blew them off. Everyone was just jealous and trying to break us up. I watched her flirt with other women and dismissed it; that was just her gregarious personality and it meant nothing. Meanwhile, if I even spoke to a man, I had to spend weeks convincing her that I wasn’t cheating and that she was the only one I wanted. But it didn’t matter. I loved her to distraction. I would have done anything for her. She was my everything and god I wanted her.

It was a year in that the fighting started. It seemed that we fought nonstop about everything; money, drugs, other people. It was a vicious cycle. The more we fought, the more drugs and alcohol came into play and the more drugs and alcohol we used, the more we fought. I stood wobbly at the crumbling edge of the abyss, worried that at any moment I might tumble headlong into the empty black depths. I felt as if I was drowning. Nothing I did seemed to improve the situation. Every day it seemed a new worry came to join the ever expanding flock; chaos breeding chaos. I was in over my head. But I knew that if I surrendered hope, all would be lost. Hope, however, is sometimes as hard to hold onto as running water. There was a crushing weight on my chest pushing me down under the waves of despair. The bleakness was all consuming but still I wanted her.

We would go for days without food or sleep, just sitting around spacing out with no concept of time. I lost so much weight that none of my clothes fit and my family began to worry and suspect. I had turned into an addict; addicted to alcohol, addicted to meth, addicted to Trish. I saw a movie once that yielded the most profound quote; “When you can stop, you don’t want to and when you want to, you can’t.” I learned the hard way how true that was. I was nothing more than a strung out junkie and deep down I didn’t want to stop. The using, the drinking, the partying, that was Trish; and she was the thing I was most addicted to. I needed her. I thought there was no way I could live without her. 

Our relationship was just as intense as it was toxic. I knew that. We were fire and ice or oil and water most of the time. When things were good they were exceptional. We were exceptional; the perfect couple. But when things were bad, they were really bad. I loved her more than anything, but there were times I hated her just as much. Once, after a drunken fight, I sat in my car and all I could think about was how good it would feel to run her over with it. It was never physical between us; she never hit me and I never laid a hand on her. The screaming matches, however, were epic. And despite everything, I still wanted her. 

Early one morning, two years in, everything changed. I was sitting on the couch in my living room, high as a kite, coloring in a coloring book while I watched Trish and our roommate play hand after hand of gin. They were just as high as I was. When I started to come down, I looked at us and thought that there had to be more to life than that. I went to work all night, came home and partied all day, then went back to work. I was twenty eight and had nothing to show for it. I basically worked just to pay for the parties. Tears began rolling down my cheeks and I knew I couldn’t live like that anymore. Something had to change, but still I wanted her.

I took Trish to bed and our lovemaking was intense and explosive; just as it always was. Afterward I laid in her arms, in my safe space where nothing and no one could hurt me, and thought about how to fix my life. I knew what I had to do, but it was the last thing that I wanted. I tried for another week, but I was sober and she wasn’t. We fought; her pushing me to use, me begging her to quit. I knew she wouldn’t change, not for me. She had to want to, and she didn’t. But heaven help me, I still wanted her.

It was raining the day I left. She was shocked when I told her. She begged me not to go; she cried, she pleaded, she threatened to drink bleach, but she never offered to change. So I had to say goodbye. I knew that if I wanted to see my thirtieth birthday, it couldn’t be with her. She stormed out when my friends arrived to help me move; she said she couldn’t watch me break her heart. What she didn’t know was that my heart was breaking too. She called and texted for weeks. She even had our roommate call me over under the guise of picking up my mail just so she could talk to me. I was weak, I just wanted to be near her, so I listened. She made promise after promise that I knew she couldn’t keep and I had to harden my heart against her. 

That was the last time I ever saw her; it’s been over a decade now. I heard through the grapevine that she eventually cleaned herself up and became the woman I always needed her to be. I’m married to an incredible man who worships the ground I walk on and have two beautiful children. I have a good life now and I’ve moved on, but still, every once in a while, she crosses my mind. And somewhere, deep down in the recesses of my soul, in a place I have locked away, I still want her.