What I Meant When I Said I Love You In Bed

I have this vision of waking up next to two naked girls in a hotel room in Las Vegas. One of them is covered in tattoos and the other one is dripping in diamonds, looking like Elizabeth Taylor if Elizabeth Taylor was addicted to pain meds. A tangle of limbs and tits and booties touching as the sun rises, hot bodies becoming one as we tried to figure out what the word intimacy means to us in one night, clawing our way towards an orgasm in an attempt to be seen and validated. Each touch is proof that our existence has a purpose. The moans we hear are the closest we've come to being loved, and we take that affirmation to heart in the hope that physical touch can lead to some sort of resurrection of the soul. 

I abandon this fantasy for sleep and dream of buying a plane ticket to Berlin so I can dance under the red lights at Berghain and shed the tears I've been holding onto since I first made myself believe that I am alone in this world. 

I wake to a phone call from the guy I've been seeing. He's the one who doesn't know what he wants but is willing to see where things go with us until he figures it out. Good morning beautiful, he says to me and the insides of my thighs flutter as visions of being held by him flood into my mind. He makes me shy and kind of nervous. His voice is a reminder that my fantasy with the two women actually came true it just happened in an apartment building by Prospect Park. It was snowing outside but neither of us cared. In less than a week I morphed into the two women. I am covered in tattoos and I am haunted by a memory of wearing the diamond earrings my father gave me while I am being held down and sexually assaulted by a friend of mine when we were studying abroad together. I am drunk and the room is spinning from the coke.  I release this memory from the prison of my mind long enough to believe the guy I'm seeing is the one who can turn sex into the love I didn't even know I was craving. His willingness to feel things as strongly as I do makes everything feel like a dream. 

The last time I saw him was at a pizza place in Bushwick where I told him we should have less sex and take things slow. He asked me what I wanted. 

To be someone's girlfriend. 

To what end?

I want to get married. I want to be someone's partner. 

I want to be seen as someone who is worth so much more than walking this earth with nothing but her headphones to keep her company. I don't know how to be viewed as this person, so I lead with sex because the appeal of my body is one of the few things I'm certain of right now. 

Say it, he whispered in his bedroom while he was inside of me. 

I looked him in the eyes and told him what felt true at the time.

I love you. 

This moment is all we have, he says to me when I'm on top of him. 

Right now, in this moment, all I want is to love and be loved. Whether that's by him or someone else I'm not sure.