Couch

It all came down to this. Years stuck with my exes in my heart and head, three firings in a row, thousands of kilometers traveled and tears cried. A man can witness a lot; live and die a dozen lives in the span of a decade. But the same man, wounded and tired, will be forever grateful for the gentle kiss of a woman. His bones, finally resting besides the tenderness and the warmth of his lover; that’s bliss. And it all has come down to this. This night, January 26th 2022. This pre-owned IKEA couch, from roughed up gray fabric to clouds, from Frederiksberg to Heaven. “I know this sounds weird, but… Can we cuddle for a bit,” I ask, and she blushes. “Okay, sure,” she replies, to quickly lay down and resting her head on my chest.
For long minutes we stay in silence, as my friends’ wedding playlists runs in the background. My living room is perfect: dimly lit and properly heated. An almost finished bottle of French wine and unfinished Spanish tapas, quietly stare at us from my coffee table. Fate couldn’t have written a better scene nor set up a better mood.
I’ve not felt this peace in a while. If I close my eyes, I can just think of The Scientist. But that was exactly two years ago. Then a big chunk of nothing. And now, eyes still closed, I sink my nose in Li’s hair; inhaling every molecule of her pheromones, of her natural fragrance. I feel… happy. Not even caring that we won’t have sex nor that she’ll leave in a short while. I’ll just look at her walking away from my building, in the cold of the night, from my window. Intoxicated by the remains of her presence here. And I’ll sit back in my couch and finish the leftover red wine. And, for the first time in months, will sleep like a baby. High in endorphins and this rising feeling of early love. Which isn’t frightening, for a change. But that’s the future. Now, I kiss her forehead. Then I look down into her eyes, gently hold her chin and kiss her deeply in the mouth. Our tongues interlacing, playing and getting accustomed to one another. The beginning of what will, hopefully, be an extension of these glory moments.
“This is nice,” she says, looking out the kitchen window into my shared community backyard. Trees still lit by Christmas lights, in the freezing cold of this winter night. I stand behind her and hold her tight. “Titanic!” I say; “I’m the king of the world!”. She holds my arms and says “That’s my favorite movie!” I think to myself “And you are my favorite person.”
Back into the living room, I wave goodbye at her, as she’s already put her shoes back on and stands by my front door, ready to leave. “Come, give me a proper goodbye,” she demands. I get closer and kiss her, with a smile. I’m somewhat surprised of how natural this feels, regardless of the clear height difference between us. And then, she’s gone. Leaving me alone here, to digest these feelings for a couple of days now.
“Yeah I like you, how crazy is that!” she texts me the next day, as she packs to go back home to Jylland for a while. And I know for you people this may not mean much, but after almost seven years in Denmark I can tell you that a jyde won’t ever say something like that unless they really feel it. Good thing I feel it too, huh?

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