The Man Who Was My Almost

My Almost felt like what I had been waiting for my entire life. He came in when I was least expecting it; When I was most skeptical of falling for someone. He was instant. He was electric sparks and the immediate tension of want and need.

My Almost could smile at me and I would still feel the jolt of my stomach, and my heart lurching in my chest. Whether it was the first day we met, or the last day when he said, “See you later.” A lie, but I still felt the pull of the red strings between our fingers. He was infectious in the best ways. In the way that I wanted everything, and to grab him and pull him back into the house because I knew later would never come.

My Almost would bring me coffee in bed on our weekend mornings, and we would sit with our steaming mugs discussing the dreams we had the previous night. He would always finish his coffee first, place his mug down, and nuzzle into my neck as I finished the last of mine. And then we would lay in bed for as long as we could, retracing the outlines of each other’s skin, tangling sheets, and laughing at each other’s coffee breath at each other’s necks.

My Almost called me intriguing when I would share something new about myself. He said my dreams and goals were beautiful, and when I laughed, he called me amazing. His lips would pull into a mischievous smile, and he’d say it softly, “You’re intriguing,” before kissing me again. He could tell when I was thinking, and would ask me to tell me what was going through my mind. His brown eyes saw through mine. Both dark, but transparent to each other. Our souls were connected just as much as our touch.

My Almost had a touch that felt like the kind of warmth you receive from a fireplace on a wintery day. And he did show me fires, bring me to bonfires, sit with me at campfires, and stare at the stars with me. He always kept his hand on my knee, or at the small of my back. Alone, he cradled my chin and touched my jaw with his lips. His fingertips would draw the nooks of my spine and the pull of my skin. In the dead of January, we were heat.

My Almost was promises of summer days at wineries. He was the vow of adventures together to the places we dreamed about when we slept together. He was the assurance of more sleepy mornings together and nights wrapped around each other. He was laughter as we brainstormed future Halloween costumes together, football games with our rivaling teams, and pet and child names together. My Almost said nothing was wrong, and that he cared for me too. My Almost said we were fine. My Almost never called me back. Later never came.