It’s Torture

I’m working up the guts to ask him to marry me. I’m so in love with him, I can’t even think straight. He’s so poetic and funny and wonderful and sweet, and someone I never thought I’d be with, but now that I’m with him, he is someone I can’t imagine my life without.

My Roger.

I love how in the morning when we wake, how his arm is draped along my stomach, how his eyes are sleepy and we linger in bed as we kiss—-and I play with the longer strands of his reddish orange hairs near his face.

He makes breakfast(sometimes I do) and I make coffee.

I think he wants to propose, but I really want to surprise him first. He has been through hell, so much pain—-and he deserves a nice surprise. I did find him a ring(I saved from some of my paychecks and put down-payments evenly over the last few months.)

It’s perfect for him. Black Zirconium and a design is so masculine—-I just have to find the right moment.

I realized the day Roger told me his mom left him the mansion—and how his dad wanted him to have the money, too—-that the commitment he made to me was real. Immediately, he wanted me to move in with him to the mansion. Immediately, that money he got from the inheritance became our money. I tried to politely refuse the massive account—-he insisted that my name be put on it. He told the bank the reason why.

“He’s my boyfriend. He is my life partner. Okay?” Roger had clarified at the bank, the banker silently nodding, a blush on her cheeks, typing out my information without fail.

I was smiling, holding Roger’s hand, proud and happy.

This morning, when I woke up, I decided that today would be the day. We have been together for almost a year. Matching Scarlet Macaw tattoos, a joint bank account, and we have lived together now for several months—-all of it compounding in the fact that I do indeed trust that Roger is what I want and need in my life, always. With him, I’m happy and I feel like myself, free and at ease. We write together. We dance. We cook and clean.

We… finance?

Eh, that’s a bit tough. Roger is really bad at budgeting.

That’s okay. I do it.

I wake up before him, and kiss him on the cheek. I see him smile.

“Mmm… baby, come back to bed…” he mumbles.

I grin. “Sweetheart, I have to start breakfast.”

“No. I’ll pay for breakfast. You worked so hard this week, you need a break.” He smiled. “That’s why it’s called breakfast!”

His eyes open a bit, and he grabs my hand. I laugh.

“You tease too much!” I say as I frown a bit. “Ah, hon, we shouldn’t spend anymore—”

“Let me worry about that, cutie pie.”

I scratch my face, wanting to say, ‘But, you don’t. I do,’ but I stay silent.

“Anything you want. We’ll have a fancy breakfast in bed. Do you want anything in particular, baby?” He gently pulls me in bed, and I grin despite that tug in my gut.

“Um… I’m… I’m okay. Let’s just have something nice here.”

Roger looks at me, unconvinced. “Mimosas?”

I shake my head. “I don’t need anything fancy. I have you.”

Roger bites his lip and kisses my cheek. “Oh, you’re too wonderful.” He gets up. “Just for that display of humbleness, I’m getting us something super special.”

He gets out his phone and calls up a restaurant.

“Yeah. I’d like to place a pick-up order. Uh-huh.” He winks at me. I frown. “Yes. Two large fresh squeezed orange juices. Two orders of steak and eggs. Over easy and scrambled. Medium rare and medium. One cappuccino and one black coffee. And I’d like your premium fruit bowl. With extra strawberries. Yes. And… I would like blueberry pancakes. And Swedish pancakes. That’s it. Yes. Thank you.”

He hangs up and gets out of bed. “Okay, I’m going to get our food. You go take a long bath. Relax. I’ll be back.” He puts on some pants and leans over, kissing me.

I kiss him back and then sigh.

He notices. “Babe? Did I forget something in the order? Did I order your stuff wrong?”

“No. You got it right. But… How much was it?”

He shrugs. “Who cares? We got a lot of dough.”

I sigh again. “Alright, it’s just… I was looking at our budget and our accounts. I project we will be almost completely dry by late next year… I wanna be careful.”

He sighs, looking away from me. “Doug.. next time we will eat here. I just wanted you to have break from cooking and cleaning.” He completely evaded my point but I nod, feeling a bit bad for being so stingy over something like breakfast. I walk over to where he is, and I look him deeply in the eyes.

“Roger, you are so beautiful.”

He smiles shyly. “Nah.”

I kiss him softly on the lips. “Yes, you are.”

He kisses me. “You are.” We hug. “Go ahead. Go take a nice relaxing bath and I’ll be back with breakfast. Okay?”

“Man, you are too good to me.”

Roger laughs. “I know.”

He puts on his shirt and waved goodbye, and I blow him a kiss.

The flood of thoughts steal my joy.

Is he happy?

Is he really happy?

Do I make him feel better or worse?

Do I create negativity when its not warranted?

I didn’t want to lose Roger, but I also wanted to be honest with him. Our finances were precarious at best. Money was going to run out, by my calculations, in two years tops. With Roger’s spending habits, maybe one.

He received one hundred and twenty thousand dollars from his mother’s will.

He bought me a new car.

He bought me a new wardrobe.

He bought me a very expensive watch.

I just need to tell him that I don’t need any of that. I just want him.

When he came back with our breakfast, I told myself I wasn’t going to say anything yet.

He was just so fucking happy standing there, I had to shut up. And those sparkly green eyes..

Well, I couldn’t say no.

We ate together in bed, laughing and talking of our plans for the rest of the weekend.

Then, he put on our mix of songs, our music.

He dipped me, he twirled, he was swingin’ and jiving and moving so fluidly—-I was worried I’d step on his toes, but he was so good, I felt like I was flying.

Then, he showed me a painting he made.

It was of a beautiful landscape, natural and green. And our Malena notes, above two colorful Scarlet Macaws. But, there was something different about this picture.

“Is that…”

He nodded. “What do ya think, baby?”

I grinned. “You’d like kids?!” There was a baby macaw next to the couple on the branch.

He nodded. We kissed deeply.

“After we get hitched. Yeah. We can adopt. If you like.”

I hugged him so tight. “Oh, Roger. You make me so happy.”

“Hell yeah I do.”

I laughed.

Immediately, we switched from romance to passion.

We make love right after he shows me his brilliant painting. Hearing him moan and cry out my name really turns me on——I always look for ways to get him to be louder.

He’s caught on.

“Well, you certainly are crafty today,” He teases me. I smile a bit impishly.

“Shut it,” I say back, and he kisses me deeply.

“It’s great we can be open about what we like…” Roger starts.

I look at him imploringly. “Yeah?” I ask as he holds me in bed.

“I really liked how you took control. That was really sexy.”

I feel my whole body go warm. “Really?”

“Yeah. Super hot.”

I scratch my face, feeling a bit self-conscious.

He looks me in the eye. “You never thought of yourself that way, huh, Doug?”

I shake my head. “It’s just… I don’t think I’m that good looking. So… yeah.”

He frowns, and kisses my forehead suddenly.

“Doug, you’re beautiful. You’re the most amazing and sweet and gorgeous —-the most beautiful Person I know. And you are sexy. And hot. Don’t worry about that.”

I chuckle. “You are amazing, Rog… and… you are super cute… and hot, too.”

Roger grins, rolling his eyes in a joking way. “You are so shy. That’s adorable. So reticent to talk out loud about what turns you on. Tell me something you want me to do.”

“Right now?”

He nods.

“But… we just made love.”

He shrugs. “So? And? Where are the rules that said couples have to stop being intimate after sex?”

“Good point.”

“So… is there something you want me to do?”

“Well… I like to kiss you.”

Roger nods. “I do too.”

“I like to… dry hump you.”

Roger laughs softly, playing with my hair. “Me too.”

“I like when you talk dirty.”

Roger leaned in toward my ear, “How dirty?”

I kiss his cheek and whisper, “Nasty. Really dirty.”

“Do you want to role play?”

I bit my lip. “How do you do that?”

“Why don’t we think of something.”

“Let’s pretend…” I think of a scenario we both wondered about. “We’re in high school. And I’m still oblivious to your feelings. Let’s… pretend you’re bullying me. And we get trapped in… the gyms locker room. And suddenly, you kiss me.”

“Good start…” he says, “but, you should kiss me. To startle me. And I’ll pretend to be mad. That’s a riot, huh?”

“Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Okay…” he clears his throat. “Time to get into character.” He sits up straight. “Should I put on my black leather jacket. To get the full effect?”

I laugh.

“Uh—-no laughing, Funnie!” He says softly, and smiles.

“Roger, it’s… it’s your fault we’re stuck in here!” I say in a pretend frustration.

“No way! You locked us in here!”

“Well, I can’t believe I’m going to miss my last period of the day.”

“Who cares? You’re so… annoying.”

I laugh a little, and he looks at me unconvinced. “So are you!”

“Little goody two shoes. Why don’t you try not being so… weird.”

I grinned. “You like weird.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You…” I grab his arm and pull him close, “like that I’m weird.”

“What the heck is… is wrong with you?” He acts flustered and moves away.

“You secretly like it. Don’t you?”

He looks a bit withdrawn, and gets up from the bed.

“No.”

I shake my head, and frown. “You.. you okay?”

He nodded, breathing in slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s standing still.

It looks like he’s having a panic attack, so I slowly get up and go over to him.

It reminds me of the day we saw his father, when he told Roger his mother died. How stiff and dead in the eyes he looked, the fear sliding through into his grip—-and how helpless he was when his dad broke the beer bottle right near his feet.

“Honey… what do you need? Do you want space… or do you want me to hold you?” I ask gently.

He looks at me, surprised.

“Uh… hold me. Please.”

So I hold him.

I hear his heart beating.

It’s fast.

“Doug, I don’t want to lose you.”

I hear him say it and I hold him tighter. “Why would you think you’ll lose me?”

“I keep torturing myself. I keep telling myself you’re too good for me. How I’m such a piece of shit and you’re better than this. So… I keep overcompensating. I keep spending that money. That fuckin’ money,” he almost gritted his teeth as he said it, “that stupid money—-I want it to be gone. I want to sell this mansion and buy our own house. I hate this place. And I’m sorry. I lost it for a moment. It wasn’t you. It was… I thought about how badly I wanted you to be my friend when we were kids. How I felt so strongly for you. And… how violent my dad got when he finally found out I liked you.”

“Did our… our role play jumpstart those memories?”

He nods. “I’m sorry. I need to help you out more with our budget. I didn’t mean to ignore what you said earlier, babe.”

“No. I’m sorry. I should’ve brought up my concerns in a better way. You were being sweet.” I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss his mouth. “You won’t lose me.”

“I couldn’t believe you realized what was wrong with me. You really are special.”

I looked at him questioningly. “Huh?”

“Oh, well… you saw I wasn’t responding and you asked me if I needed space. I never heard that before. You.. you know me so well.”

I hugged him again. “It’s because you and I click.”

He chuckles. “Yes. We do. A little too well.”

I frown. “Roger?”

“Yes?”

I stop myself from poping the question.

“Would you like to take a nice warm bath?”

He nods with a heavy sigh.

“Okay.” I take his hand and we go to the bathroom. I light some candles, turn off the light, and start up the water. “And… we’ll talk.”

He smiles, but it feels distant.

We start randomly talking about Roger’s friends. Most of his friends accept me.

Ned was lukewarm at best. Boomer, really nice. Willie… okay. Just okay.

“I got something to tell you, baby.”

I perk up as we both soak in the massive tub together.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“What is it?” I move closer and lay on top of him. He bites his lip and sighs in a breathy way.

“Holy shit. Why’d you do that? Now I’m horny.”

I laugh. “So? Where in the rules does it say we can’t make love again?”

He laughs. “But, sweetheart…” he moans a bit as we get closer.

“Want me to move a bit?”

He nods. “Fuck. You are so fucking hot.”

“Mmm…” we kiss as his tongue twists over mine passionately.

“Baby…” he gently pulls me away. “I need to tell you something.”

I stop moving and look at him a bit frustrated.

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t tell you…”

“What?”

Roger sighs. “Well, before you and I … found each other again… Boomer and I… sometimes would… fool around.”

My eyes widened. “Uh? What?”

“Yeah. Like… we never had sex. We just… sometimes would give each other handjobs. And kiss.”

I sigh, and look at him a bit annoyed, “Rog, as long as that is history, I don’t care. I don’t judge you.”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Sooner.”

“Is… Boomer jealous?”

Roger laughed. “Fuck no. He’s gay. He has a boyfriend and we never had feelings for each other.”

I nod. He looks at me imploringly.

“Doug… are you upset?”

“No.”

“Well…. Could you talk then? I hate silence.”

“What should I say?”

“Uh… Goddamnit. I knew I should’ve told you sooner.”

I frown. “It’s okay. I’m not upset. But… I do want to know why you didn’t tell me.”

“I was a bit… I was… during that time in my life, I hated myself. I hated my feelings. I hated…” he closed his eyes, tightly. He didn’t say anything for a minute.

“Roger?”

“I wanted to die. I wanted to just die. I hated how I felt. I felt wrong. Like I was made wrong. And stupid. And I wanted to erase my feelings forever.”

That hit me hard.

“Roger, you know that I just recently figured out who I am. You didn’t have any support —-you didn’t have the care and support you needed to healthily shape your self image. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.”

Suddenly, his hands gripped the sides of the bathtub.

“Doug… I-I think I’m losing it.”

He started to breath in with a shuddering, shaky intake of air.

Tears streamed down his face, and he started sobbing.

Seeing him that way made me tear up, and I got close to his face. Our cheeks touched.

“Do you feel like this is torture?” I whisper.

He blinks, tears falling silently.

“Our love is the only thing I live for,” He whispers.

“Darling… I don’t want that for you——you are worth so much more than you believe. And… our love is so important to me, yet—-I don’t want our love to become everything.” I gently take the washcloth and clean his back and arms. “I want you to have your own identity and your own thing. What is your ultimate passion?” I ask him.

“Painting. Drawing. Cars. Writing.”

I smile at his answer. “I want you to understand that I will always facilitate for you to grow and have your own experience and understanding of what life means to you.”

“Thanks. You are really the best.”

I kiss his hand. “And so are you.”

*******

That day really cemented our love and trust with each other. We both started working diligently on our finances and working hard together to make the money work for us. Not the other way around.

So, I found(finally!) the opportune moment to ask him to marry me.

It was after a walk through at the Botanical Gardens and we were just talking. About nothing in general, but we were having such a wonderful time. I decided to just do it.

I had the ring with me.

“So, babe, you wanna go get some lunch, I’m starving—” he started to say as I knelt down on one knee.

His eyes widened and looked in awe.

“Roger, during these last eleven months—-I felt a truth I never thought I could have ever felt—-a crazy, wacky story that I never knew needed to be written—-and a dream I felt all my life—-but I didn’t have the right name to put to it to make it real.” I took out the ring and took his hand. His bit his lip and his eyes started to water. “I realized that all of these problems of who I was and what I wanted came down to one thing—-finding you and really understanding our potential. Your potential. Mine. And with our combined efforts and understanding, we created our dream story—-and churned it out, fresh and beautiful and loving, our relationship that I would not trade for the world.” I smiled at him and he winked at me, waiting. “Roger, would you marry me?”

“Yes!” He said immediately, taking the ring and placing it on his finger. “Yes, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed me softly.

“Actually… I have a ring for you too.” He said. “It’s at home, I hid it somewhere. I was going to ask you soon. Damn! You beat me to it!”

“Nah. We both knew it was coming.. so we weren’t really in a race or anything.”

Roger scoffed, “That’s what you think! I wanted to win!”

I stood up and held him by the waist. “We both won, Rog.”

He kissed my forehead. “You’re right. And I won’t have to worry about that anymore. I don’t feel like I am agonizing over this—-over who I am. You truly make me feel better and whole—-I no longer feel torturous inside. We’re a team. Like always.”

“Exactly. And like Mortica and Gomez Addams, we can now torture each other!” I tease, and he laughs.

He takes my arm, kissing up and down, whispering, “Cara Mia!”

I blush. “Gomez, you fiend!” I say.

He grins salaciously. “Cara Bello…”

“Beautiful face? You think I’m beautiful?”

Roger nods. “I Always did.”

We kiss again, and I see it in his eyes.

A twinkle and a glow.

You can’t extinguish real love like that—-even with all the inner demons and pain we have had—-I knew it in our gaze.

We were made to last.