In the beginning I was the one with the power. Or at least I thought I was. I had such faith in the power of the sashay of my hips that I never minded walking away. I never even had to turn around to know that you were panting after me.

I could hear your breath on my neck I could feel your eyes on my ass and I knew that whatever I wanted i would get.

It went on for a long time and then the long time became a short time and then the short time was no time and finally I looked up. Then I had to turn around and see you weren’t there. There was no panting, no reaching out, and the phone didn’t work.

It happened so quickly I didn’t understand. I’ve never had power like that before and I’ve never felt so adored. Where have you gone? I was afraid to know.

Your ex-wife was back using photos of family and descriptions of a child’s illness and making of lamb stew and things got broken in the house and only you could fix.

I didn’t understand this because I’ve never known how to fake it. It’s been a failing on my part. If I had learned how to fake it I would’ve had a better life or may be an easier life.

I saw you once a few years ago and I thought to myself what happened? You looked old and sad and you weren’t really funny or charming anymore. You look like you drank a lot.

I still wondered if I would go home with you but I think the person I would go home with is made of words and memories. That person is in a book or a journal or a figment of someone else’s imagination.

I see now that all those years I spent thinking that had been my best chance and I said no when you asked me to marry you. I was right.