Asleep

I was asleep when you called. When you called after sending those two texts. I missed the texts, too.

I was asleep.

My phone on my desk, in the other room.

For so long, I'd get up each morning and hope I'd see a text from you.

Finally, I'd given up. Realizing I'd probably never hear from you again. We MIGHT run into each other, but you certainly weren't going to reach out … and, I didn't know how to.

So, I woke up and saw a missed call from you. And two texts.

All just after midnight.

A mistake, I figured.

You'd been drinking and did something crazy and you were hoping I wouldn't notice or respond.

Nine months.

Nine months since you last messaged me. Nine months since I'd stood in your kitchen.

The last message you sent me made it clear … and I respected that. You weren't mean about it, just clear and direct.

And I love you... and so … I respected your wishes, let you move on.

Two texts and one call and … well, I didn't say anything or respond because, well, because of how it ended before and because if it was a mistake I didn't want to compound it.

And then... another text from you.

And I responded. And you responded.

And for an hour, we talked. Just like we had before.

It was so nice to hear from you … to hear about you … to know what you've been doing and what you will be doing.

After our time texting, I took a shower and went to bed.

I slept harder than I've slept in months.

Yesterday, another brief text exchange.

And last night, I was asleep before 11 and fell into a deep, relaxing, incredible rest.

YES... I want all of you, still.

But... I am thrilled to hear from you … I'm delighted to be in your life, your world in this small way.

If that's all you ever want, I'll be ok.

I'll be more than ok.

You calm me in a way no one ever has.

I was asleep when you texted me... and then called me.

And after we finally talked, I went to sleep.

I don't know how to describe the tremendous release hearing from you gave me.

This sounds... well, it is ..

But, why not? Everything else was … well, strange.

You made me feel... in all the ways.

And, hearing from you... you calmed my soul.

And I was asleep.

St. Emma

Have you been saved?

It's a common refrain in the South, especially among those who attend evangelical churches... so many times, people ask: have you been saved?

As someone who grew up in a Southern Baptist Church, I know what this means... and I understand the urgency of the question. Of course, if you haven't been saved, you're going to hell. Because you are lost. And you can only get saved if you acknowledge you are lost and need God. Then, you pray. Then, God decides to save you when you've prayed enough or reached the end of yourself or whatever.

But, you get saved. Or, you say you got saved. Then, you get baptized.

That's it. Then, you're good to go. No matter what. After you've been saved, it can't be taken away. Not by anyone. Not by anything you do. You're saved. So, you're in... you're going to heaven... and all the fuckers who won't yet admit they are lost are just shit out of luck and they'll be in hell, eventually.

Unless, of course, they get saved.

So, I have this childhood salvation story. About crying during spiritual songs at camp and crying in my room and crying and praying until I "felt right."

But here's the real story: I HAVE been saved.

I was saved by Emma.

Yes. That's her name. Emma.

Funny enough, we had this whole joke about her being "St. Emma" because she'd been ordained online and was all set to marry her mom to this dude ..

She'd wear a black bishop's robe and these delightful Louboutin heels... and she'd be fabulous (and tall as fuck, b/c she's 5'10" anyway)…

The summer before I met Emma, I almost died. I almost killed myself, to be precise. It was this vision...but it was so very close to being real. The gun in my sock drawer.

I'd felt so numb for so long. I'd felt nothing. Then, this ever-present darkness.

It was... well, better after that day. The day of the crying and the thoughts of the gun. But, the darkness was still there.

I hadn't laughed or cried or felt … well, anything for so long.

And then.

Emma.

The very first message she sent made me laugh out loud. Not like (lol) but like … I LAUGHED. I didn't just smile that quiet, knowing smile or slightly move my lips or let my eyes be the only thing that showed. I fucking laughed.

A good start, to be sure.

And then, she kept on. She made me laugh again and again and again.

And she made me think.

She challenged me.

She pushed me.

I hadn't felt like this in … forever.

I hadn't felt... in such a long time.

And we talked and we laughed and we talked...and we finally met... and she embraced me and I embraced her and she was warm and smelled like heaven and she was all the things I'd seen in her messages.

And she let me take her home... well, give her a ride home. And I laughed in the car with her and she laughed and … WE laughed and she got distracted and lost her keys in my car... and came back and smiled... and OMG.

And then there was the trip .. she went with me on a trip. Yeah, I had work and she, well, she didn't. So, she rested and relaxed and visited a family member who lived where we were going.

And... and... and... I experienced something I NEVER had before. A truly intimate encounter with another human.

I let go...and she let go...and I wanted her and she wanted me...

And... we each gave all …

And... it was all the things I'd dreamed of and written about and thought of... forever.

With her.

And I couldn't believe … couldn't believe this was happening. That SHE was choosing me.

Again and again and again she chose me.

And... in the back of a Lyft on the way to the airport I cried... in front of her, I cried. And she cried...and we cried. Together … and I've never done that before.

And... we got back and our lives faced reality...

And... we kept on and on...

And then... well, it was just too much, all of it, she said.

But...I'd already been saved by then.

St. Emma saved me.

Yes, she moved on... more souls need her touch.

Not being in the realm of her light hurts...it does.

But, I'm a better man because I knew her...because she held me.

I WAS saved.

I've cried, I've laughed, I've screamed.... I've felt an entire range of emotions.

My heart … closed for oh so many years … it opened.

I feel EVERYTHING... which, well, it's a lot.

But it's fucking wonderful.

St. Emma SAVED me.

And I'll never be the same... when they say, "once saved, always saved." they aren't fucking kidding.

I may never, ever, ever be with St. Emma again... but I'm saved... I'm strong, powerful, amazing...and I'm ready to be the man I need to be, can be, should be...

I'm ready for the one who can take all of me... and I will take all of her.

Do I wish that was Emma? Hell yes.

Will I be ready and willing and able for the woman is ready and willing and able to take all of me? YES!

I'm saved.

And forever grateful to St. Emma.

I promise

I promise, her dad said when she was 9 and they took him away the first time... I promise I'll be back, I promise this won't happen again.

I promise, he told her when he was taken away again and he couldn't be there for the Daddy/Daughter dance.

I promise, he said when she went off to college and he was working and things looked good... I promise it will be ok this time.

I promise, he said, when he declared bankruptcy, again... and she had to leave school and go home and transfer and get a job and live with her mom.

I promise, he said, I'll make it right as he stopped taking his medicine and found a way back into jail.

I promise, her first boyfriend...her first true love -- had said … I promise you're the only one for me. I promise, he told her, as he went to the hospital to watch his child being born...the child his other girlfriend was having.

I promise, he said... I can be committed to you now, well, you and the baby from another woman...

I promise, the new guy said, everything is fine...

I promise, he told her, she's from work....

I promise, he said... I'll NEVER cheat again

I promise, the next guy... the kinda weird one... I promise this is all ok...

I promise, he'd told her... and then the FBI showed up and asked questions and he was gone.

I promise, said the new roommate/potential boyfriend said. I promise I'll take care of things... I'll do my part.

I promise, he'd said, after he hit her the first time, I promise I won't lose my temper again.

I promise, he said, after the beating so bad she called 911. I promise I'll get it right.


I promise, I said, as I stood in her kitchen.

I promise, I'll deal with this.

No, there was no secret baby. There was nothing on my phone she couldn't see.

Yes, I'd been open... more open than I'd ever been.

Yes, I'd let her touch me... and I'd touched her.

I'd never yelled at her, never hit her, never even been angry... and she knew I never would be, not like that.

There was no "missing money" or secret life or big surprise coming ahead.

But. Well, there was (is) this one thing.

And... I needed to deal with it.

I promise, I said... as I stood in her kitchen. Stood looking at the only woman who'd ever made me feel whole.

I promise, I'll do this.

She said... I need time. Need to think. I'm processing.

Then, she stepped away.

I was one more man standing in front of her making a promise.

She walked away... and I've kept that promise.

I'm one million times better than I was that night I left her apartment.

I'm stronger, I'm healthier, I'm cleaner...

I promised.

And she basically said: Shut up and show me.

Here I am, I'll say. Here I am, when I see her next.

I'm that man. The one you saw... the amazing man who can do anything. That's what you said.

I promised. I delivered. And I'll do it over and over and over again for you.

I won't give you words, I'll SHOW you with all of my being.

Yes...yes, I'm going to mess up, make a mistake.

But... I'm going to give you ALL of me every day without you having to ask.

I promise.

Jenny and Ariel

I know … I know … I know.

It's a lot.

So, first … I didn't choose those parents. I didn't ask for that.

Second, YES … I'm now a 44-year-old adult and I make choices. Not acting is a choice. I was 43 when we met. I'd spent a lifetime making choices or choosing to ignore.

I DID THAT. I CHOSE TO IGNORE IT.

For a long, long, long time that seemed the best path.

Frankly, there was no one I met who I felt was worth the effort of dealing with it.

Interestingly (ironically?) I'd just started seeing a therapist when we met. So, I was finally ready to do something.

I didn't ask to be hit every single day. I didn't ask for her to hold me in her arms and tell me she loved me after I was crying so hard and in physical pain. I didn't ask for her to scream at me and ask me why I was crying after she'd hit me until I couldn't move. I didn't ask for all the screaming. I didn't ask to be told over and over and over again: "something's wrong with you."

I didn't ask for the ER visit where the doctor asked my parents to leave the room … and then asked me what happened. I didn't ask to wear long pants to school on 90 degree days so no one could see the bruises.

And I sure as hell didn't ask for that night when I was 13 and I found out what he'd been doing.

I didn't ask for the lesson of shutting the fuck up and pushing my feelings down.

I didn't ask to learn that not feeling anything and not showing emotion was the best way to get out without a scratch... literally. I didn't ask to find out that the person who seemed like he was helping was stealing … from me.

And... I know what I experienced isn't even the worst.. I've seen and met and taught and dealt with kids who faced far greater … challenges.

Jenny's mom told her that I couldn't come over and study Spanish b/c of my family... b/c it was a mess...b/c it was not a good idea to get involved with that.

I was 14.

Ariel screamed at me on the phone one night and said all the "stuff" with my mom and dad, it was just too much.

And so... fuck it, I just wouldn't show all of it. I wouldn't cry in front of anyone...

Sure, I met Monica.

And I wanted Monica and she wanted me.

But... well, I'd learned my damn lesson.

And I didn't want to hurt her.

So. We were friends...until … well, she died... after I'd know her for 8 years.

And so... yeah, I learned this: That feeling … THAT  feeling... well, fuck it. It's pointless. It's NOT for me.

So, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that fucked up shit happened.

And I'm sorry I waited to really deal with it.

And I'm sorry I didn't stop you...

And … I'm beyond sorry if I hurt you in any way.

I can take a lot.

I can.

And … well, NOTHING hurts like not having you.

I'd take 100 more nights of her hitting me for one more night with you...

This. … This IS pain.

And … you … you are the only person who made me care enough to even deal with it.

Yeah, I was seeing a therapist as we met... but … well, after YOU, all I wanted was to have been that "amazing" man from the very first day you saw me.

And...well, I know I'll fuck up somehow.

I try... and with you, I'd try with 100% every single day...

But.

All of me … is here. For all of you.

I Stood in Your Kitchen

I stood in your kitchen...

You were on the counter.

Sitting, your blonde hair flowing over your shoulders.

I told you.

I told you everything.

I'd already told you a lot.

But that night, I told it all.

I knew what might happen.

Frankly, I would probably have done the same if someone said those words to me.

But -- here's the deal. I loved you. I LOVE you still. And so, I told you all.

For us to go further, you needed to know. You'd probably find out anyway. At some point.

I've gone over that night again and again and again. And again.

And I could have pretended. I could have said different words. I could have made another move and we could have ended up in bed.

But I wasn't after your body or your sex or just being touched... I wanted (still want, btw) ALL of you.

And if I was going to ask for all of you, I was going to show you all of me.

And so I did.

I stood in your kitchen and I told you. I gave you the whole picture. ALL of me.

And you touched me (I don't let anyone touch me) … and you said you needed to process.

Yes, some things happened to me that I couldn't control.

And, then, my response.

I made those choices.

I made them... no one else chose to keep hiding and keeping secrets and locking away my heart. I made those choices. I did it.

And guess what?

The man who made those choices... that's the one you met. The one who thought you'd be another pleasant distraction on the way toward wherever.

I'm the man you said was "amazing."

I'm the one you said was the first to understand you.

I'm the one you hugged the first time we met.

I'm the one shared true intimacy with...

Yes, THAT guy.

The same one … the one who experienced those things. The one who made THOSE decisions.

In fact, I'd say it was those experiences, those decisions...that allowed me to love you.

I stood in your kitchen and I gave you ALL of me. ALL.

I didn't know how it would work out... I didn't know what path we would follow... none of it made sense.

But, I love you.

So. I told you. In your kitchen.

How many men will stand in your kitchen and admit to everything... will tell you everything... will put ALL of themselves out there?

NONE.

Well, there ARE a few, maybe.

Most men in my position that night would have been thinking about other things. Or playing games... or hiding the reality for as long as they could.

But I'd already showed you a lot of me. And you deserved to know it all.

If you can find a man who will give you more … and, truly, I hope you do... I want nothing more than to know you are happy.

But. You won't. It's not likely.

I told you 100% … I told you all -- I WILL still give you all of me.

I'm not perfect. And I own my flaws... at least for you. I've never really wanted to tell anyone else.

But, I LOVE you. And so I respect you enough to say it all.

And, here's the thing... You're not perfect, either.

And I'll take it. ALL of you.

You want to come home and cry in my arms and not tell me why? OK!

You want me to order us food and tell you funny stories so you don't have to think about it? OK!

You want me to go upstairs and read while you "think?" YES!

You want to drive with me all night and turn the music up and just scream? OK!

Here's the deal...

I know about the others... the ones who came before.

And I know what you'll probably find.

The next guy and the one after that. The ones who will stand in your kitchen and lie to you so they can have one more night in your arms. The ones who hope you never find out. The ones with secrets and lies and "other" lovers.

The ones who are angry, and take it out on you.

You might...maybe … in 100 years find a man who will give you more than I will.

And again, truly, I hope you do... I hope you find him and you're happy and you're smiling and you're safe.

But know this: I stood in your kitchen and offered you a rare gift.

You don't have to want it. I know that's not how it works.

I know it would have been a lot to go through these last months with me...and even then, there'd be more. Believe me, I know.

And yes, selfishly, I want you to want it.

But, I want it for you  -- I want you to have someone who is sold out for you … who is willing to stand in your kitchen and put YOU first and tell the truth and not hide and not play games and not keep secrets...

The one who will stand open for you today and every single day.

I stood in your kitchen and offered you all of me …

That offer is still on the table …

One year later ...

I wish the first text you had sent me had been on Labor Day 2019.

I wish the first time you'd invited me to your apartment, it was September 19, 2019.

I wish our first coffee was in the late fall of 2019.

I wish we'd planned our trip for late November of 2019.

I wish I hadn't yet held your hand at a ballet.



You see, I'm a better man now.

I'm fully ready.

In a way I wasn't just one year ago.


I won't say I've conquered everything. I'm still working, will always be working.

But instead of running away, I'm taking on. Confronting.


Here's the thing: My motivation to take these things on is YOU.

Sure, you moved on … and, wisely so.

But. Had I not seen you, known you, been with you, I would have never thought YOU were possible. Not for me.

You loved me .. you really, truly loved me. You loved me enough to let me go because you knew that's what I needed.

None of what happened between us made any sense.

Not those first texts, not the coffee, not the trip, not your apartment, … none of it.

Both of us had to suspend rational thought to keep moving forward.

But we both wanted each other.

And neither of us wanted it to stop.

And, in our minds, we both knew it couldn't be more.

Not then.

Now, though, it can.

And I don't even know how to start.

What do I say?

Do I just call?

There's a history now. There's a "last night." A "last text." And there's … all this time.

Maybe someone is making you smile -- I do hope so.

Maybe there's someone who is ready for the best me. The one you saw.

If so, she'll owe you.

And … if you were just a way to prepare me for something even more amazing, thank you.

And … if you were just a moment of brightness in a typical existence, thank you.

And … thank you for texting me one year ago. For inviting me one year ago. For our trip, for our time, for our love.

Love begins with respect. You respected me enough to let me go when you knew that's what I needed.

You respected me enough to learn me... and not to walk away when you started hearing the reality.

You respected me enough to hold me and not ask questions.

Still … I dream of a world where we meet today … for the first time, and you know the best me … and that's the one you fall in love with and that's the one who takes you out and that's the one forever.

I love you. And, I may never love like this again.

So, thank you … for moving my life forward.

In the Car

I got in my car today. To go to the store. And this song came on.

Here:

Like the memory from your mother's house
From before you got too old
Like the feeling from a photograph
Before it's meanings all got told
The words I say can be silver
But what's left unsaid can be gold
So get to know me once I go away
Maybe 'cause I come from such an empty-hearted town
Or maybe 'cause some love of mine had really let me down
But the only time I am lonely is when others are around
I just never end up knowing what to say
If I wanted someone to clean me up
I'd find myself a maid
If I wanted someone to spend my money
I wouldn't need to get paid
If I wanted someone to understand me
I'd have so much more to say
I want you to make the days move easy
I took everything I thought from what it means to be a man
We need words to be put to what we do not understand
While you lean into the echoes and you do not raise a hand
Oh woman, help me see it like it is
If I wanted someone to clean me up
I'd find myself a maid
If I wanted someone to spend my money
I wouldn't need to get paid
If I wanted someone to understand me
I'd have so much more to say
I want you to make the days move easy
If I wanted someone to clean me up
I'd find myself a maid
If I wanted someone to spend my money
I wouldn't need to get paid
If I wanted someone to cut me down
I'd have handed you the blade
I want you to make the days move easy
I just want you to make the days move easy 

This is ALL I wanted. ALL I want.

Some days, you'd text two or three times. And that'd be it.

And... it made the days move easy.

I knew... I knew everyday there'd be words from you.

All the rest.. all of it... it was more than I could ever have imagined.

I never thought anyone... certainly not you...

I never thought that was for me.

I just needed you to make the days move easy.

I don't know if you ever really understood …

Just sitting across the table from you … just looking into your eyes...

It took everything away.

That... that you wanted more... surprised and thrilled me.

I wanted more every single time I saw you...

 But I didn't want to ruin … what we had.

I wanted the days to move easy.

I could sit in your apartment and work all day knowing you were there... and the days would move easy

I don't … didn't... still don't … expect you to understand it all. Or make it go away.

I just... I want you to make the days move easy.

I know... I know because you told me... I made your days move easy.

I don't need any more than that.

I don't need to be deep in your mind... I don't need you to be 13 again.

I need to just be there.

To be the one who is "so positive and encouraging."

I won't ask questions. You can tell me what you want.

In your presence, every single minute is pure joy.

I once told you that all I wanted was to be with you... all the time.

You said, "You'll change your mind."

But... well, I won't. I haven't.

Because I don't need all the extras.

If I glanced over and you were there... If I saw your face... If I caught your smile. If I saw you bending down to pull out a drink from the refrigerator. If you touched me as you passed me by.

The warmth of your skin.

I don't even think you know it.

Or, you won't admit it.

Your power.

Everything is ok when I'm with you … when I was with you.

And... well, for so long, nothing was ok.

And it certainly wasn't ok to not be ok.

But.

All I needed... was someone to make the days move easy.

And... for the first time, they did. For the only time in my life, they did.

You were quiet, private, careful. And you made me laugh, smile, relax.

I let it down... let you know.

You made the days move easy.

Until.

Until I said the words that made you think I wanted more.

Yes: I want ALL of you. When you're ready.

But... what I want most... from now until forever … is YOU -- to make the days move easy.

No one's ever done that for me. It seems like no one else ever will.

Thank you, Dawes, for writing these words...