Left Unsaid

My entire life is founded upon Things I Should Have Said. It's not just a matter of, "Oh, I should've brought up our quarterback's shoulder injury in the argument today; I would've had him by the throat!" Or, "I wish I'd told the boss about my idea to manipulate the numbers in the quarterly report; that would've gotten me the promotion for sure!" While I'm convinced things like that could've made differences in how I tackle the challenges the world heaps upon me, it doesn't matter. The bottom line is, I'm always thinking of the Things I Should Have Said after the fact because I'm incapable of thinking of those things when they'd actually put me in a position to capitalize upon them. All I have left are the fantasies of the better life I could've given myself. Take, for instance, my roommate's friend who stayed with us this past week. I've spent the last seven days trying to acquaint myself to her in my own quiet fashion. This never works. The result here was no different. This afternoon was her last and - as my roommate toiled at work - I sat on my bed observing her pack, knowing all too well that for anything to happen between myself and this exquisite creature, I'd need to act boldly and immediately. As she approached my room to say goodbye, I Should Have Said:

I'm sorry to see that you can't stay longer.

Yeah, well, I gotta be getting back.

I know, I know. It's just ... too bad.

Why's that? We hardly know each other.

That's exactly my point. I always relish the opportunity to make a

new friend. Especially one who's so ... . Does anyone ever tell you that

you have a quality about you?

A quality, huh?

Oh yes, it's quite stunning.

Really? How so?

Well, I don't want to say it's a magnetism; that makes you sound

like you belong on a fridge. And I don't want to say it's an attraction,

though you are quite becoming and I'm sure that plays no insignificant

part. I wouldn't use either of those words, though, because they

inadequately explain the full essence of your individuality. That would

stand to reason, though, because no words exist to explain your quality.

At this point in my Recollection of Past Events As I See Them Had I Said What I Now Determine I Should Have Said Then, she's very intrigued because, heretofore, such discourse coming from me has been nonexistent. Now, she's wondering, "Who is this fella with the charismatic eloquence? Why have I never noticed how dashing and charming he is until now?" Simultaneously, as I'm laying in bed that night, feverishly in the moment of my Recollection of Past Events As I See Them Had I Said What I Now Determine I Should Have Said Then, my shorts as well as my boxers are down around my ankles and my penis is at full erection. However, in the Recollection, both of us are still clothed. Not wishing to circumvent the climax by a premature ejaculation, I keep the soup at a low simmer until the rest of the meal has finished cooking. She takes a step toward me as I sit on my bed behind my laptop, wry smile on her face matching mine. We lock eyes as she stops at the edge of my bed.

Why don't you try to explain this quality? Humor me.

I say, more calmly and smoothly than I've ever actually said anything before:

Well, part of it is this intense need for people to get to know you.

You exude a confidence, a grace. I'm sure you hear this from everyone,

because I'm sure it's on everyone else's mind too. See, even in this

briefest of encounters with you, I feel that my entire life has - up until

now - been lacking in some respect: that being the absence of you in it.

And if you don't hear that from everyone else who comes into contact

with you, that's surely because they're either too stupid or too afraid to see

what I know in my heart to be true:

And at this point, her wry smile has given way to the utter shock and appreciation of the fact that I'm not only laying my heart out on the line, but I'm saying the one thing she's always needed to hear, but up until now never had. Not just that she's beautiful; not that same old line about how she's "intelligent and funny and wonderful to be around and you complete me and blah blah blah," but that she's the epitome, the very definition of what it means to need. And so, at the moment's highest point of tension, where the explosion of euphoria between us is at its zenith, I pause just long enough to induce that craving of, "What will come out of his mouth next?" Then, I release the clincher, the words that'll make her mine.

That you have the power to captivate and completely enchant

anyone and everyone just by being you. I know I don't need another day

of your presence to know that much; I just need that extra time like an

addict needs his fix. Or, more appropriately, like a human being needs air.

By now in my Recollection of Past Events As I See Them Had I Said What I Now Determine I Should Have Said Then, I've rendered her speechless. Without necessarily being aware, she's placed a knee atop my bed. Then the other. Now, she's crawling toward me with this look of intense desire on her face. Simultaneously, as I'm laying in bed that night, feverishly in the moment of my Recollection of Past Events As I See Them Had I Said What I Now Determine I Should Have Said Then, I'm already anticipating intercourse between us like a conductor of a train will anticipate a dead cow in the very near future due to the momentum of the train's forward movement coupled with the lack of sufficient reaction time allotted him; I'm at full stroke and the coals in the engine are piping hot. No further words are required; she's crawled to me and already presumed removing her top as I remove mine. In no time, we're both naked and I try to delay orgasm so I can collect a few snippets of would-be dialogue whilst in the throes. Aside from the various and numerous indecipherable exclamations of ecstasy from her gargantuanly satisfied respiratory cavity, that is.

Fuck me! Don't ever leave me!

I won't! I promise! Turn around, let's fuck like this!

You're so big and great at fucking! I can't believe we've been at it

for two hours already!

What can I say, you bring out the stallion in me!

I've never had sex with anyone before, but if I had, they'd pale in

comparison to you!

The entire scenario is finished in under five minutes. As I wipe my soiled right hand onto an old, dirty T-shirt, at this point in my Recollection of Past Events As I See Them Had I Said What I Now Determine I Should Have Said Then, I'm explaining to the police - while wearing only a towel and a satisfied grin as she lay asleep on the bed, sprawled out in whatever crazy position I've left her in after her 40th orgasm, haphazardly covered with a sheet I threw on top of her upon hearing the knock on the front door - that I wasn't murdering anyone, and that I apologize to any neighbors who happened to believe otherwise. I was, in fact, simply delivering a little pleasure by doing what I do best. The cops and I would then laugh over some pizza and beer while watching the latest sporting event, each taking turns asking me about technique and stamina. While guiding my pupils, a few hours later, I'd see that my lady has since roused from her slumber, walking into the living room - hair a sweaty, matted mess, eyes still adjusting to light, wearing the soiled sheet as an impromptu toga - beckoning me back into the bedroom with nothing but the slow, exhausted motion of her index finger; then squealing in delight as I leave my guests, pick her up, throw her over my back, and carry her into my bedroom, saying:

You fellas let yourselves out. As for you, get ready: this time's

gonna be even better!

But, instead of all that and plenty more, as she approached my room to say goodbye this afternoon, I said:

See ya.