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As Alex lay awake in the darkness, he thought about his life. He thought about the paradoxical nature of his world, how it seemed so complicated and at the same time so simple.
He lay in the darkness on the living room sofa, his bed for the past four years, while twenty-five feet to the east, his ex-wife occupied the former marital bed. She could spread out her arms and roll over in her sleep, but Alex was limited to barely stretching out his full height and keeping his arms tight to his body on the narrow, cushioned space he called his own.
It had been his choice to move out to the sofa, after years of distance and years of being isolated, the reality that his marriage had ended made him uncomfortable and unwilling to share a bed with the mother of his child. In truth, he felt nothing at all toward her, not love and not hatred, not affection and not even animosity. She was simply there, and any intimacy they had once shared was but a distant memory. She was the mother of their child together, and she had once been the woman he vowed to be with, until death. Life has a funny way of getting in the way of plans, and ideals become foolish fantasies.
It was for the best, and Alex made the best of his twelve square feet of space each night. Better to be alone, he thought, than to share a bed with a stranger, and that was what she had become to him. He felt no resentment. He felt nothing.
Complicated. Separated but sharing the same roof. Transitioning in his career, he barely could pay the rent for one roof, let alone move out and pay for two. Now he was an entrepreneur as well as being a father, as well as being a son to a widowed elderly parent. He barely had the time to do any one of these things, let alone all of them, and it left little or no time for Alex to be a man, to have his own identity and his own life. Complicated. But it was the twenty-first century and complicated seemed to be the way of the modern world. It makes all of us jugglers in a circus.
Somehow in the darkness, however, complicated became simple, and there was the paradox. This night it was quiet. His ex wasn't snoring, or if she was, he didn't hear it through the closed bedroom door. His child was fast asleep, the teenage tendency to have headphones loud enough that they could be heard at a distance was now silenced by sleep. Not a creature was stirring, and the only mice belonged to various computers, also long since silenced by the night.
Simple, he thought. Alone, but simple. Just himself and the darkness and the quiet.
It wasn't complete darkness. Everything has a price. When he exchanged the marital bedroom for the separation of the living room, he traded opaque shades for sheer curtains. The light from outside leaked in to his space, and turned darkness into a relative term. If he wanted darkness, real darkness, he had to close his eyes. He had to close them, and roll onto his left side so that he faced the back of the sofa, which also blocked some of the light. The darkness was not complete, so if he opened his eyes, he could still see the dining room to his right and the rest of the living room around him.
Simple. He closed his eyes, and darkness surrounded him. A simple problem and a simple solution. Why complain, he thought, and make life complicated? If he closed his eyes, he created his own sanctuary of darkness. He was alone.
That was hours ago. Alex had slept, and in the cool air of his living room, he had instinctively rolled himself up in his duvet, like a tightly wound burrito, and he slept in that insulated cocoon for most of the night.
It was still too early for him to get up, but he awoke from his snug slumber at around three in the morning. The down-filled duvet had created a warm place for him, and as a result, he had been sweating in his sleep. As he awoke in the darkness, he was aware of the sweat and his pyjama bottoms and t-shirt were soaked through.
Simple. He unrolled himself from his cocoon and pulled off his t-shirt. Simple. Nobody else would be awake for hours, so he had time to evaporate in some semblance of privacy.
Complicated. As alone as he was in his physical space, he was not alone in his head space. His mind wandered to the events of the past day, and his mind wandered to the last face he had seen before retiring to his sofa for the night. It had not been anyone in his apartment - they had been asleep for some time when Alex made his way back home at midnight and crawled into his small space. He had been with Daphne and had made the fifteen-minute drive home at midnight.
Complicated. Labels never defined Alex, at least not in his own mind. Married? As far as he was concerned, he had not been married for years. A separation agreement and a divorce application filed with the court, and it was just a matter of time before the legal labels would be changed. Married? Separated? Divorced? The laws, whether of the land in which he lived, or even the laws of God, if He or She even existed or even cared - it was the law that gave labels. But what of one's own law? What about the man inside that shell? Did it not matter that his wife had abandoned the marital vows years ago, that she had withdrawn and left him alone and without any intimacy or compassion? Did it not matter that for four years she had been content to see Alex sleep on twelve square feet of upholstered living room furniture while she assumed full occupancy of a bed? Did it not matter that for years before that, she was content to have Alex as nothing more than a role player, a provider, chauffeur, handyman, cook, cleaner, and so on, rather than as a partner?
Alex was alone in his heart and in his mind, regardless of how society defined him or which labels were given to him. So he sought to build a new role for himself, seeking out new connections with new people. He knew that whatever he had, he would have to acquire on his own. Friends. Business. Hope. All of them were works in progress on his shopping list for a new life.
Daphne. Complicated and simple. Online dating, and maybe the timing was bad, with life being in transition, but Daphne was an instant complication and an instant simplicity. It would take hours, days and perhaps a lifetime for him to explain just how complicated it all was and would be, but the simplicity was love at first sight. A cliché, for sure, but even a cliché has a basis in reality. Alex loved Daphne from the moment he met her, and no amount of complication could alter that simple fact.
The sex had been incendiary from the start. It was hot. It was intimate. It was the type of chemistry that defied explanation. Every step of the way, though, the sex mirrored the feelings. Against the advice of her friends, Daphne had caught a bad case of feelings from the start. Alex was no different. It was more than just love. It was a case of feeling, of knowing, that the missing pieces of the puzzle for each of them could be found in the other. Damn those feelings, each one could say. The timing was really bad, both would agree, with Alex not yet independent of his situation, and at the same time, Daphne had her own issues to deal with. A lifetime, Alex thought, to explain the complications. But the feelings were very simple. They seemed destined to be together, even with all the hiccups and all the minutiae of navigating through the complications.
Despite the feelings and the chemistry, they still hurt one another. Not intentionally. But it hurt each of them when they were intimate, and Alex then had to assume the role of the departing lover. When he turned back into a frog at midnight and had to return to his twelve square feet in a home where he really did not feel at home. It hurt each of them, with feelings of jealousy and of frustration and of invisibility. Daphne did not want to be the mistress and in her eyes, Alex was still a married man. Alex did not want Daphne to be a mistress either, and while in his eyes he had not been in a marriage for years, he understood how the world saw his life. He understood the labels. And he understood the hurt.
Complicated. Complicated because he also understood just how elemental Daphne was to him, and how their feelings were so intense. Complicated because she was the only woman who made him think of Rolling Stones lyrics to describe how he felt, something about wild horses not being able to keep him away from her. Complicated because he didn't want to hurt her, and he didn't want to hurt himself either.
Alex lay in the darkness and, in that moment, it was simple and not complicated. He had left Daphne only a few hours before, with a few kisses, and yet those kisses were more intimate than any intimacy he had ever shared with a woman. But no sex. It was too hard. Too hard to just get dressed and leave at midnight after such wild and connected sex. A few kisses and goodnight and then a few short hours of sleep before he awoke in a sweat.
That was the simple part. It was simple because whenever he saw Daphne, no matter how complicated the situation seemed, just seeing her made his world feel right. A kiss made him feel that there was some order to his chaos, that there was nothing random in his world. It was simple because Daphne made him feel that he was human and not simply a discarded vestige of a failed marriage or a failed career. It made him feel that he had value and could be loved and that he could love someone back.
In the darkness, he could feel the sweat on his body clinging to him. No one would see him, so he pulled his pyjama bottoms down to his knees, his body now nearly completely naked. The cool air in the living room touched his damp body and he was transported back to the last time he lay naked in the darkness. He had made love with Daphne and he had worked up a sweat. He remembered supporting himself on outstretched arms over her body after they made love, and as he was panting and catching his breath, as his heart beat quickly and she lay below him, the sweat dripped off his face and on to her breasts. Her own chest rose and fell as she caught her breath and her skin glistened from her own sweat and from the droplets of moisture coming from Alex's body. He then rolled over onto his side, facing her, and the cool air whisked away the dampness, slowly, leaving a cool breeze emanating from his skin.
As he lay alone on the sofa, eyes closed, he could feel the same cool breeze once again. He rolled on to his side, imagining Daphne beside him. He could feel the sweat on his body, nestled in his pubic hair and covering his buttocks, as he lay naked on the sofa, his mind many miles away in a cool and darkened bedroom where he had last made love with Daphne. The cool breeze tickled his skin and he instinctively reached down to touch himself.
Alex touched his buttocks first, remembering how Daphne would put lube on her fingers and caress his anus, slowly inserting a finger and massaging him as they lay together after their love-making. As his penis slowly deflated after their vigorous intimacy, after he had spent himself within her, Alex had been probed by Daphne's gentle explorations inside of him. Slowly she touched him and in the excitement and love of her moments of contact, his erection began to return. It amazed him how he could still recover so quickly after sex, at his age, but when he thought of Daphne, he wasn't surprised by his arousal. She could arouse him with a smile, let alone a finger deep within his ass.
Alex touched the sweaty flesh of his buttocks and he felt himself become aroused. He used his other hand to touch his penis, and he felt himself become firm and erect, and using the moisture of his sweat, his hand glided over the length of his shaft, slowly stroking himself at first and gradually picking up the pace.
He was acutely aware that privacy was a fleeting and relative notion where he lay, in his living room without so much as a door to be closed. Yet he stroked himself, moving his other hand from his buttocks to his chest, pinching his nipples as he continued to grip his erection more tightly and move his hand up and down stimulating himself and bringing him toward a climax.
Simple. Simple yet complicated. Masturbating in the dark was a skill set built over the years since he first discovered his sexuality as a young teen. He could jack himself off with one hand tied behind his back and while blindfolded, he mused. Simple, and yet in his twelve square foot sanctuary, and with his soul bound up with Daphne, even masturbation was complicated. In a way, he felt guilty, because he had betrothed himself, in his heart, to Daphne. Only she had access to his most intimate self, and to some degree, he felt he was cheating on her by masturbating. It should be her hand, not his own, he thought.
He felt the cool air between his buttocks cheeks, as he rolled onto his side and continued to stroke his hardness. He could feel the coolness on the bottom of his testicles, as it whisked away the sweat into the dark and cool early morning air. He could feel the openness of being naked in such a potentially public place, and it made him stroke faster, to finish off before anyone arose and could intrude on his intimate moment.
He stopped pinching his nipples and he used his now free hand to probe his buttocks himself, to take some of his sweat and to use it to moisten the opening into his own darkness. He slowly inserted a finger tip into his anus and as he stroked his erection, he began to slowly probe himself the way that Daphne had done when she plunged her finger inside of him.
The sensation of his finger inside of his anus pushed Alex over the edge, and his hardness spasmed, and his ejaculate spilled out of the end of his penis and onto his belly, having rolled onto his back just a moment before his climax. The warmth of his semen covered the hair on his stomach and he could feel it drip down along the side of his body as it pooled and then spread.
He took his finger and traced lines through the pool of his fluid and he brought it to his mouth so he could taste himself, his eyes still closed. It always amazed him that he enjoyed the taste of his own sex, almost as much as he enjoyed the taste of Daphne when he would please her with his mouth. He tasted the salty creaminess on his fingertip and then he scooped more of it into his waiting lips, cleaning off the majority of his climax from his belly, still heaving from the workout he had given himself a moment before.
He glanced at the clock beside him. 4:33 a.m. He needed to clean up and get back under his duvet before the light came through his windows and converted his twelve square feet from a place to sleep back into a living room. He needed to clean up before the carriage turned back into a pumpkin and the horses back into mice.
He needed to clean up before simple again became complicated.
He closed his eyes momentarily before he knew he would have to sit upright and then stand and walk to his bathroom to clean up. He still lay there mostly naked, the cool air no longer feeling like a breeze, the sweat having now mostly evaporated from his body.
He closed his eyes again momentarily, and he imagined that Daphne was lying beside him, perhaps asleep and naked, and that he was getting up to go to her bathroom, in her apartment, in the place where they had made love together so many times and always with such intimacy and passion. He imagined that it was her sex that he tasted on his lips. He imagined that it had been her hands that had brought him to this moment.
He opened his eyes. He looked around him in the dark and realized that simple and complicated were not so different after all. One could become the other, they were just labels. Like himself, and the way he saw himself and the way others saw him, labels could be changed. Separated could become divorced. Entrepreneur could become self-supporting. Goodbye could become goodnight.
Alone could become together.
And twelve square feet could become living room furniture again, with a real bed and a real partner as Alex's resting place each night.
Simple.
He lay in the darkness on the living room sofa, his bed for the past four years, while twenty-five feet to the east, his ex-wife occupied the former marital bed. She could spread out her arms and roll over in her sleep, but Alex was limited to barely stretching out his full height and keeping his arms tight to his body on the narrow, cushioned space he called his own.
It had been his choice to move out to the sofa, after years of distance and years of being isolated, the reality that his marriage had ended made him uncomfortable and unwilling to share a bed with the mother of his child. In truth, he felt nothing at all toward her, not love and not hatred, not affection and not even animosity. She was simply there, and any intimacy they had once shared was but a distant memory. She was the mother of their child together, and she had once been the woman he vowed to be with, until death. Life has a funny way of getting in the way of plans, and ideals become foolish fantasies.
It was for the best, and Alex made the best of his twelve square feet of space each night. Better to be alone, he thought, than to share a bed with a stranger, and that was what she had become to him. He felt no resentment. He felt nothing.
Complicated. Separated but sharing the same roof. Transitioning in his career, he barely could pay the rent for one roof, let alone move out and pay for two. Now he was an entrepreneur as well as being a father, as well as being a son to a widowed elderly parent. He barely had the time to do any one of these things, let alone all of them, and it left little or no time for Alex to be a man, to have his own identity and his own life. Complicated. But it was the twenty-first century and complicated seemed to be the way of the modern world. It makes all of us jugglers in a circus.
Somehow in the darkness, however, complicated became simple, and there was the paradox. This night it was quiet. His ex wasn't snoring, or if she was, he didn't hear it through the closed bedroom door. His child was fast asleep, the teenage tendency to have headphones loud enough that they could be heard at a distance was now silenced by sleep. Not a creature was stirring, and the only mice belonged to various computers, also long since silenced by the night.
Simple, he thought. Alone, but simple. Just himself and the darkness and the quiet.
It wasn't complete darkness. Everything has a price. When he exchanged the marital bedroom for the separation of the living room, he traded opaque shades for sheer curtains. The light from outside leaked in to his space, and turned darkness into a relative term. If he wanted darkness, real darkness, he had to close his eyes. He had to close them, and roll onto his left side so that he faced the back of the sofa, which also blocked some of the light. The darkness was not complete, so if he opened his eyes, he could still see the dining room to his right and the rest of the living room around him.
Simple. He closed his eyes, and darkness surrounded him. A simple problem and a simple solution. Why complain, he thought, and make life complicated? If he closed his eyes, he created his own sanctuary of darkness. He was alone.
That was hours ago. Alex had slept, and in the cool air of his living room, he had instinctively rolled himself up in his duvet, like a tightly wound burrito, and he slept in that insulated cocoon for most of the night.
It was still too early for him to get up, but he awoke from his snug slumber at around three in the morning. The down-filled duvet had created a warm place for him, and as a result, he had been sweating in his sleep. As he awoke in the darkness, he was aware of the sweat and his pyjama bottoms and t-shirt were soaked through.
Simple. He unrolled himself from his cocoon and pulled off his t-shirt. Simple. Nobody else would be awake for hours, so he had time to evaporate in some semblance of privacy.
Complicated. As alone as he was in his physical space, he was not alone in his head space. His mind wandered to the events of the past day, and his mind wandered to the last face he had seen before retiring to his sofa for the night. It had not been anyone in his apartment - they had been asleep for some time when Alex made his way back home at midnight and crawled into his small space. He had been with Daphne and had made the fifteen-minute drive home at midnight.
Complicated. Labels never defined Alex, at least not in his own mind. Married? As far as he was concerned, he had not been married for years. A separation agreement and a divorce application filed with the court, and it was just a matter of time before the legal labels would be changed. Married? Separated? Divorced? The laws, whether of the land in which he lived, or even the laws of God, if He or She even existed or even cared - it was the law that gave labels. But what of one's own law? What about the man inside that shell? Did it not matter that his wife had abandoned the marital vows years ago, that she had withdrawn and left him alone and without any intimacy or compassion? Did it not matter that for four years she had been content to see Alex sleep on twelve square feet of upholstered living room furniture while she assumed full occupancy of a bed? Did it not matter that for years before that, she was content to have Alex as nothing more than a role player, a provider, chauffeur, handyman, cook, cleaner, and so on, rather than as a partner?
Alex was alone in his heart and in his mind, regardless of how society defined him or which labels were given to him. So he sought to build a new role for himself, seeking out new connections with new people. He knew that whatever he had, he would have to acquire on his own. Friends. Business. Hope. All of them were works in progress on his shopping list for a new life.
Daphne. Complicated and simple. Online dating, and maybe the timing was bad, with life being in transition, but Daphne was an instant complication and an instant simplicity. It would take hours, days and perhaps a lifetime for him to explain just how complicated it all was and would be, but the simplicity was love at first sight. A cliché, for sure, but even a cliché has a basis in reality. Alex loved Daphne from the moment he met her, and no amount of complication could alter that simple fact.
The sex had been incendiary from the start. It was hot. It was intimate. It was the type of chemistry that defied explanation. Every step of the way, though, the sex mirrored the feelings. Against the advice of her friends, Daphne had caught a bad case of feelings from the start. Alex was no different. It was more than just love. It was a case of feeling, of knowing, that the missing pieces of the puzzle for each of them could be found in the other. Damn those feelings, each one could say. The timing was really bad, both would agree, with Alex not yet independent of his situation, and at the same time, Daphne had her own issues to deal with. A lifetime, Alex thought, to explain the complications. But the feelings were very simple. They seemed destined to be together, even with all the hiccups and all the minutiae of navigating through the complications.
Despite the feelings and the chemistry, they still hurt one another. Not intentionally. But it hurt each of them when they were intimate, and Alex then had to assume the role of the departing lover. When he turned back into a frog at midnight and had to return to his twelve square feet in a home where he really did not feel at home. It hurt each of them, with feelings of jealousy and of frustration and of invisibility. Daphne did not want to be the mistress and in her eyes, Alex was still a married man. Alex did not want Daphne to be a mistress either, and while in his eyes he had not been in a marriage for years, he understood how the world saw his life. He understood the labels. And he understood the hurt.
Complicated. Complicated because he also understood just how elemental Daphne was to him, and how their feelings were so intense. Complicated because she was the only woman who made him think of Rolling Stones lyrics to describe how he felt, something about wild horses not being able to keep him away from her. Complicated because he didn't want to hurt her, and he didn't want to hurt himself either.
Alex lay in the darkness and, in that moment, it was simple and not complicated. He had left Daphne only a few hours before, with a few kisses, and yet those kisses were more intimate than any intimacy he had ever shared with a woman. But no sex. It was too hard. Too hard to just get dressed and leave at midnight after such wild and connected sex. A few kisses and goodnight and then a few short hours of sleep before he awoke in a sweat.
That was the simple part. It was simple because whenever he saw Daphne, no matter how complicated the situation seemed, just seeing her made his world feel right. A kiss made him feel that there was some order to his chaos, that there was nothing random in his world. It was simple because Daphne made him feel that he was human and not simply a discarded vestige of a failed marriage or a failed career. It made him feel that he had value and could be loved and that he could love someone back.
In the darkness, he could feel the sweat on his body clinging to him. No one would see him, so he pulled his pyjama bottoms down to his knees, his body now nearly completely naked. The cool air in the living room touched his damp body and he was transported back to the last time he lay naked in the darkness. He had made love with Daphne and he had worked up a sweat. He remembered supporting himself on outstretched arms over her body after they made love, and as he was panting and catching his breath, as his heart beat quickly and she lay below him, the sweat dripped off his face and on to her breasts. Her own chest rose and fell as she caught her breath and her skin glistened from her own sweat and from the droplets of moisture coming from Alex's body. He then rolled over onto his side, facing her, and the cool air whisked away the dampness, slowly, leaving a cool breeze emanating from his skin.
As he lay alone on the sofa, eyes closed, he could feel the same cool breeze once again. He rolled on to his side, imagining Daphne beside him. He could feel the sweat on his body, nestled in his pubic hair and covering his buttocks, as he lay naked on the sofa, his mind many miles away in a cool and darkened bedroom where he had last made love with Daphne. The cool breeze tickled his skin and he instinctively reached down to touch himself.
Alex touched his buttocks first, remembering how Daphne would put lube on her fingers and caress his anus, slowly inserting a finger and massaging him as they lay together after their love-making. As his penis slowly deflated after their vigorous intimacy, after he had spent himself within her, Alex had been probed by Daphne's gentle explorations inside of him. Slowly she touched him and in the excitement and love of her moments of contact, his erection began to return. It amazed him how he could still recover so quickly after sex, at his age, but when he thought of Daphne, he wasn't surprised by his arousal. She could arouse him with a smile, let alone a finger deep within his ass.
Alex touched the sweaty flesh of his buttocks and he felt himself become aroused. He used his other hand to touch his penis, and he felt himself become firm and erect, and using the moisture of his sweat, his hand glided over the length of his shaft, slowly stroking himself at first and gradually picking up the pace.
He was acutely aware that privacy was a fleeting and relative notion where he lay, in his living room without so much as a door to be closed. Yet he stroked himself, moving his other hand from his buttocks to his chest, pinching his nipples as he continued to grip his erection more tightly and move his hand up and down stimulating himself and bringing him toward a climax.
Simple. Simple yet complicated. Masturbating in the dark was a skill set built over the years since he first discovered his sexuality as a young teen. He could jack himself off with one hand tied behind his back and while blindfolded, he mused. Simple, and yet in his twelve square foot sanctuary, and with his soul bound up with Daphne, even masturbation was complicated. In a way, he felt guilty, because he had betrothed himself, in his heart, to Daphne. Only she had access to his most intimate self, and to some degree, he felt he was cheating on her by masturbating. It should be her hand, not his own, he thought.
He felt the cool air between his buttocks cheeks, as he rolled onto his side and continued to stroke his hardness. He could feel the coolness on the bottom of his testicles, as it whisked away the sweat into the dark and cool early morning air. He could feel the openness of being naked in such a potentially public place, and it made him stroke faster, to finish off before anyone arose and could intrude on his intimate moment.
He stopped pinching his nipples and he used his now free hand to probe his buttocks himself, to take some of his sweat and to use it to moisten the opening into his own darkness. He slowly inserted a finger tip into his anus and as he stroked his erection, he began to slowly probe himself the way that Daphne had done when she plunged her finger inside of him.
The sensation of his finger inside of his anus pushed Alex over the edge, and his hardness spasmed, and his ejaculate spilled out of the end of his penis and onto his belly, having rolled onto his back just a moment before his climax. The warmth of his semen covered the hair on his stomach and he could feel it drip down along the side of his body as it pooled and then spread.
He took his finger and traced lines through the pool of his fluid and he brought it to his mouth so he could taste himself, his eyes still closed. It always amazed him that he enjoyed the taste of his own sex, almost as much as he enjoyed the taste of Daphne when he would please her with his mouth. He tasted the salty creaminess on his fingertip and then he scooped more of it into his waiting lips, cleaning off the majority of his climax from his belly, still heaving from the workout he had given himself a moment before.
He glanced at the clock beside him. 4:33 a.m. He needed to clean up and get back under his duvet before the light came through his windows and converted his twelve square feet from a place to sleep back into a living room. He needed to clean up before the carriage turned back into a pumpkin and the horses back into mice.
He needed to clean up before simple again became complicated.
He closed his eyes momentarily before he knew he would have to sit upright and then stand and walk to his bathroom to clean up. He still lay there mostly naked, the cool air no longer feeling like a breeze, the sweat having now mostly evaporated from his body.
He closed his eyes again momentarily, and he imagined that Daphne was lying beside him, perhaps asleep and naked, and that he was getting up to go to her bathroom, in her apartment, in the place where they had made love together so many times and always with such intimacy and passion. He imagined that it was her sex that he tasted on his lips. He imagined that it had been her hands that had brought him to this moment.
He opened his eyes. He looked around him in the dark and realized that simple and complicated were not so different after all. One could become the other, they were just labels. Like himself, and the way he saw himself and the way others saw him, labels could be changed. Separated could become divorced. Entrepreneur could become self-supporting. Goodbye could become goodnight.
Alone could become together.
And twelve square feet could become living room furniture again, with a real bed and a real partner as Alex's resting place each night.
Simple.
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