She wondered what it would feel like if for once the person she loved was the same person she wanted in her bed. She ached to know what it would feel like to be in love. She had known what it felt like to have someone be in love with her. It scared her and so she ignored it. She seemed to do that with most things that were frightening. She didn’t think she felt lonely; lonely wasn’t a vocabulary word that existed in her inner dialogue. But then she began to wonder if maybe she ignored it (the feeling, the word) because it scared her. She couldn’t help but think that maybe she was just playing a semantics game, calling the feeling by other names. Rationalizing and explaining it away. Maybe she was lonely. She just couldn’t be sure because it wasn’t a word she knew how to use to talk about herself.
She wondered how she was ever going muster the boldness needed to be completely intimate with another person. Intimacy was something that she believed required submission to total vulnerability. She had never been very good at submitting, at least not when it counted the most. She liked sex and thought about it all the time, but for some reason in her mind sex and intimacy had never been the same, or even shared the same category of brain space.
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