I was not born in a barn...

... therefore I close doors.

Literally and otherwise.

Lost One once told me in not so many words, that there were some women who he previously dated, to whom the door was always left ajar. At that time he was trying to close the door to me, hence the enormity of what he had said did not strike me.

It was not till many make ups and break ups with him later that this sentence came back to haunt me in the form of his first love. I have opinions on what the reasons were for their demise from what little he said. However, that in the context of this post is neither here nor there. What matters is that he had never closed the door to her.

And it stung.

How does one really take the fact that in some part of the man you thought loved you, is this tiny spark of hope that someday things might work out between him and someone else?

To me anyway, a large part of being in a relationship is tcerebral. I believe you can emotionally cheat on your partner without lifting a finger physically. I don't believe that the absence of the act makes this any less wrong or any easier to swallow.

So I close doors. At the dregs of a relationship, I will flog that horse till it is good and dead. I do this so that when I leave that relationship, I know there is nothing more I could have done. So I know I will never go back.

Some enter again through a different door, in a different context, in another lifetime. But it will never be that same door and never those circumstances.

Sure, it's natural to stare at that door for a while. To, in some way, wish it would open back up. And that's ok, so long as you don't look at the closed door so long that you miss one that's open.

Open doors let in too much, and seldom anything good. We owe it to the ones we will love in the future to close those doors in our past.

Photo courtesy of Engineer J on Flickr.

because because

Because the sea is our place...

Because randomly, I miss you most on Fridays...

Photo courtesy of Jerri Johnson on Flickr.

would you

If we are the sum total of our experiences........

would you relive your darkest days thus far to be who and where you are today?

harbour

"Sunday mornin’ rain is fallin’
Steal some covers, share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mould that I am in"

Sunday Morning by Maroon 5.

There’s something about the image of two people asleep under the covers that makes this song my favourite from Maroon 5.

The bed is a strange sort of place. It moulds to suit the purpose for which you need it. No, not in that way and No I’m not the perennial bed- hopper *grin* In fact this post is actually nothing to do with anything carnal.

We’ve all I’m sure shared a sleeping space with various people, absolute strangers included, out of necessity. I know I have. The list ranges from random people I meet on diving trips to drunken acquaintances who’ve misplaced their keys. In such circumstances it really is something born out of necessity, to rest weary bones, recharge and nothing more.

But then you get the moments with the people that matter.

To share sleeping space is one thing, to share your bed is another.

For to share your bed is to share your most vulnerable moments, the vessel that allows you to dream, your harbour.

I remember moments spent growing up with Simian in her old double bed in Tampines when we would gossip till we fell asleep, Smeagol jumping into my bed with me when I was so floored by life I couldn’t get out of it. Breakfast in bed with Lost One talking about everything that mattered, yet nothing of importance. The many many nights when my bed seemed too big and the room too unfriendly for my broken heart when I would crawl up to Crease’s room, favourite pillow in tow, and all she would do was flip open the duvet, make room and let me sleep with her.

It is these moments when you realise how intimate sharing a bed with someone is. When you twist to fit the mould the other person is in, or they twist to fit in yours.

It’s saying, when your shelter fails you, let me engulf you in mine.

It’s saying, let’s run away. I’ll make sure you’re ok.

Photo courtesy of hdahlby on Flickr.