I've Left My Hot Steamy Lover

You’ve seen him before. It’s not your first time.

He’s the sexy refined one flashing his seductive ways. He hangs out in the shadowy corner and seduces us with his fast moves and fancy hip swings. Then when you’re close, you can’t resist his allure, and you let him grab you by the waist and pull you close despite the inner danger signals.

The minute his arms are around you, you feel high as a kite. You’re titillated like a blushing school girl who can’t find any way to articulate the word “NO.” Then he works his wonders and looks at you deeply with his chocolate almond eyes capturing every ounce of your attention.

Your whole body says, “Yes, Yes. YES.”

You know what I’m talking about girls? Right?

And you breathlessly say “Oh, I want more. Yes.”

“More.”

And you want it bad!

Even though you’ve been down this road before; even though you know this seductive lover isn’t good for you, you can’t help yourself and you succumb to his polished ways.

In this moment, you are the most beautiful, sexy, alive, desirable one in the room. You’re hooked.

When he dances that sensual dance with you, his strong arm around your waist, he pulls you in closely, and you feel the flush of heat rise up through your core. With shut eyes, your head tilts back and you are soaring in the clouds.

Up until the last drum roll of the song, you are in heaven.

And as quickly as this slick steamy lover chose you, he drops you like a sizzling skillet on the floor. You land in a pile of your own bones, shaking your head, awakening out of the love-sick dream. You feel bruised and banged up, stiff and cheated.

“No, no.”

“NO” you want to scream. “This can’t be. I felt so good. I was so in love.”

You desperately look around the room for the smooth mover. He is nowhere in sight. You are left. Stranded. Alone. Addicted with no fix. No way to soar to the clouds and back.

You pull yourself up and dust off your skirt and your pride. You’ve been here before. This is not the first time. You try to tuck away the huge cloud of shame billowing around you.  For the next few dances you sit on the bench and encourage yourself with kindness.

Feeling a bit hopeless, like there’ll be no life without him, you pick yourself up and decide to dance alone. You sway your hips, roll your spine. And then you see someone else on the floor ambling your way.

“Who are you?” you ask.

“I’m a hot date,” he smiles in a joking way. You look at him, he’s a bit pudgy and round, looks a bit soft, but his eyes glow and his humor is sweet. He extends his hand in an invitation to play with him. When he takes your hand, he twirls you like a lady and you wrap your bruised arms around his neck and settle in for a new dance.

It’s not as mind blowing. You don’t soar as high. Instead you feel nourished, held, grounded. You know he’s not going to dump you at the end of the song. He’s there to lean into, to comfort you. He’s there for support.

When the song ends, he looks into your eyes, bows like a prince to his lady and smiles a wry smile that says, “We should do this again sometime.”

Your heart skips a beat like you may have met someone for the long haul.

You smile back and your eyes say, “Yes.”