A New Beginning

[This is a developing narrative and is meant to set the stage for a longer story. As such, if you are wanting a quick, juicy sex-centric story, this is not it. This is the backdrop to a love story. We are not there yet, but I invite you to enjoy the journey with me.]

The end of one thing is often simply the beginning of another. Winter ends and allows for the beginning of spring with the hope of fresh growth and new life. A school year comes to a close allowing for a time of summer with a different pace and time to relax and be refreshed. A job suddenly ends leading to an opportunity to reevaluate and chase after a dream. The "new" is often hidden in the decay of the "old." If we allow ourselves the hope of optimism, even in the pain, we can see all of this more clearly and enter more boldly into that new beginning, allowing us to learn and grow and become our fullest selves. But, the pain... first we must experience the pain (and fear) that accompanies change.

Three years and seven months. We had been engaged for three years and seven months when she said she wasn't sure she wanted to be with me anymore and I needed to give her two weeks to "think about it." And, immediately, I knew that all the hopes and dreams I carried for our life together were gone. I could hear it in her voice. She had burned the bridge and only spoke of "two weeks" in some vain effort to soften the blow. She had moved on and I was left broken, shattered really.

I spent the next three years in a haze of despair obsessing over her memory and clinging to anything that reminded me of her. I wept openly and often, eventually sought counseling, and came through that worse than before I started. Any sense of myself I had anchored to her memory and thrown into an ocean of regret. And, there I remained, not looking for any old port in the storm, but (honestly) hoping I would drown.

"I think I love her more now, even after everything." I said, quite out of the blue. "In fact, I know I do."

"For Christ's sake, nobody cares anymore!" Billie said as he slid into the car. "I'm sorry. I know she hurt you, but she moved on. Pull your heart out of your ass and start living again. My God, can't we even go to Starbucks without you having a meltdown?"

"What the hell, Billie? I don't deserve that."

"Yes you do! Three years is enough. Hell, it's nearly as long as you were together. If you haven't figured it out, she's not coming back.... You know what, just forget it! I'll take an Uber home." And with that, he got out and slammed my car door.

"Fuck" was all I could say as I started my car, jerked it into gear, and drove off.

Billie was my oldest friend, one of the few who had stuck by me through the chaos of my prolonged meltdown. He was never known for his bluntness or his anger. So, I knew he had had enough and I was on the brink of losing him too and suddenly, all the hurt came back in full and the pain of loss threatened to consume me again. I hated who I had become, but I couldn't seem to change it either. I was stuck in an endless cycle of hurt and had come to define myself by it. Yet, somehow knowing all of that didn't change anything. It only made me feel weak, powerless to actually change anything or move forward. So, I just remained stuck and the people closest to me paid for it.

When I finally calmed down, I knew I had to try to apologize, but I just couldn't face him yet. So, like a coward, I texted instead: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought her up."

"You really have to figure this out. She's not EVER coming back," he responded.

"I know. Sorry."

"If you know, stop waiting for her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Go out. Have some fun. Cut loose. Take a fucking walk without bringing it up!!! Do something that doesn't involve pouting and pissing everyone else off. Please!"

And with that, the conversation was over.

As I stared at my phone, I consoled myself with the thought that, somehow, the whole thing was his fault. He shouldn't have gotten so pissed and jumped out of the car. He didn't have to be such a dick! But, the truth was, the fault was mine, I just didn't want to own it. So, nearly a month went by before I spoke to him again and that was only a brief phone conversation that (frankly) didn't go very well. Tensions were still high and I simply wasn't ready to let go of all my pain or accept any responsibility. So, I decided to just let the space between us grow.

I had become an expert at nursing pain, and turning every perceived slight into a monumental, relational catastrophe. So, invariably, I made sure this one was no different and I stopped speaking to Billie altogether. I screened his calls, ignored his texts, and ghosted him on social media. He had added to my pain and, so I convinced myself he had to hurt like I did and my "silent month" turned into half-a-year. Still, I knew I needed yet more time, even if it cost me another friendship, because (most of all, I was discovering) I needed to reconnect with who I was. I had all of these emotions that I just needed to process as ridiculous as that was after three years. I just couldn't move forward in any meaningful way. I was lost and I just wasn't sure I ever wanted to be found again. So, after half-a-year of soul-searching and what I was beginning to recognize as pride-induced pain I made the radical decision to go back, to take a day trip to one of my favorite places growing up, a hidden little lake just outside of my hometown.

I had just spent months (literally) alone, with no one for company but my hurt, and (somehow) I knew I needed one more day. Honestly, I had come to several realizations since Billie slammed that car door, but not all of them had moved from my head to my heart. I knew I needed to stop nursing the pain; I knew I needed to forgive myself; and I knew I needed to let myself love again - to be vulnerable and open. But, I just didn't want too! I had come to see myself as the victim and I was afraid to allow myself the freedom to be anything else.

With no real plan other than to go to the lake, I got up at 4:30 on a Saturday morning and drove the 90 minutes to the little spot in the field where I used to park. From there, it was a short hike in the dim morning light to the water's edge. As it was early July and sweltering, I just wore an old t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes and took nothing with me but my thoughts.

The walk itself wasn't long, not more than 20 minutes, but, as it turns out, that's just about how long I needed after wallowing in self-pity for over three years. "Why did you have to leave?" I said out loud to myself. "What did I do wrong? I loved you. I know I loved you."

As those words moved from my head to my heart, I anticipated another breakdown, but instead, I felt myself begin to release what had been and reach for something new. For the first time in three years, I dared to imagine a life without her and I found myself finally saying goodbye.

"I'll never knew why you needed to leave," I said as I walked through the trees, "but I wish you only the best. I loved our life together, but I can't do this anymore. I have to let you go. I have to start living without you and I have to start loving again. I think there's somebody out there for me and I know having been with you will help me love them better."

Even as I said the words, I knew them to be true - true of my heart and true of my intentions. I was finally letting her go and I was finally looking forward with hope. A dull ached still remained, but it was no longer a searing, all-consuming pain. I could begin again and I was beginning to be excited to try. Why not? If I had loved that deeply once, I could love that deeply again. And, I wanted to love! I wanted to wake up next to someone I couldn't imagine being without, to laugh again (really laugh), to go crazy waiting for them to call... to kiss them and know, in that moment, the two of us are all that matters in the world.

At the water's edge, I found a nice spot where the rocky beach slowly gave way to the water and I slipped my shoes off Placing my toes in the water, I allowed myself to be refreshed and get lost in the moment. No cares, no hurts flooding to the surface, no regret or loss, just the quiet of the lake in the early morning.

With the sun cresting over the hill behind me, my shadow began to dance playfully over the wind rippled water and I found myself really relaxing. In fact, I began to feel something I hadn't for longer than I could remember - joy - and the feeling was so unexpected and welcome that I found myself crying, the tears running down onto my already sweat moistened shirt.

In spite of myself, I giggled through the tears. Billie was right. The time had come to live again - to start fresh - and I was finally allowing myself to begin. In fact, the time felt right for a baptism, a full immersion into a brand new life! And, without hesitation, I stood, took my shirt off, dropped it on the beach, unbuckled my shorts and pulled them off, throwing them just beyond the water's edge. Standing there in the morning sun, completely naked, was therapy in itself and I savored the moment before I walked further in and let the water cover me.

I swam, naked, to the middle of the little lake and basked in the feel of the water on my skin, reviving me. How had I wasted so much time grieving? Yes, I loved her, but I shouldn't have allowed loosing her to lead to the loss of myself. It was time to live again and I found that I was not only ready, but excited to begin.

Feeling more alive than I had in years, I swam back to the beach where I had left my clothes. My god, I was happy!

Walking out of the water, the sun playing off of my bare skin, I soon I realized I had failed to bring a towel. Still, standing naked and wet on that beach was a freedom I would not have wanted to miss. The feel of the rocks under my feet, now warmed by the sun kissing my flesh, was the best therapy I had known and, not wanting it to end, I decided to let the sun continue to tickle my flesh. So, I smoothed out a place on the rocky shoreline, lay on my stomach with my head resting on my arms, and closed my eyes. I was exhausted from all that had brought me to that point, lying exposed in the summer sun, and I was soon drifting in and out of sleep.

When I awoke, I could feel the sun beginning to ripen my bare buttocks and fearing a burn, I groaned and rolled over onto my back having to shield my eyes from the sun with my forearm.

God, the sun felt good on my body, the way it gently warmed all of me, like a welcome lover. I wanted that again - the feel of someone I love lying next to me, their body pressed into mine....

"I can love again," I said to myself. "I can let myself be loved." What had been was not the end of my story, but merely a chapter, and I had more to write. In fact, I was eager to see where this new chapter might lead and I found myself thinking, not of my ex-fiancee, but friends that I longed to reconnect with and friends that I needed to thank for sticking with me. There was Billie, of course, but others too. So many had cared for me and still did. So many beautiful friends and welcome memories, even in the storms....

Moving my hips to soften the feel of the small rocks on the beach, I again was reminded of my nakedness and raised up onto my elbows. My shaved chest and privates were fully exposed, feeling the heat of the morning sun that was now well over the hill. Again, not wanting to burn sensitive areas, I placed my hand over the head of my penis and continued to reflect. When was the last time I had felt this at peace? This safe?

I had not masturbated since the breakup because everytime I tried I would think of her and breakdown. Now, however, with the sun hitting my naked body, I found that I had begun to gently stroke myself and the sensation left me nearly breathless. With my ex no longer consuming my thoughts, I became fixated on the simple pleasure - the feel of myself in my hand; skin touching skin - and soon, I had become quite hard. Working my hand over the head, and down the shaft, I slowly began to tease my erection and, blinking against the sun, I took my other hand and began to massage my balls, feeling them in my hand, caressing them. I even allowed myself to explore the edges of my bottom, the intoxicating touch, literally, taking my breath away again.

Without realizing it, I had come up onto my knees and was now vigorously working my cock as my other hand explored my backside. "Oh God," I whispered already getting close, but I didn't want it to end. So, I slowed down my pumping and allowed my hands to simply explore my body, running them over my bare ass, around my hips, over my balls, and playfully around the head of my throbbing dick. I couldn't believe I could feel that much ecstasy from simply touching myself and I knew I wanted/needed to feel the release.

Reaching around my back, I again began to tease my hole, running my fingers around the edge and playfully allowing them to slide just inside. As I continued to explore my backside, I began to work my other hand over my cock. Slowly at first, then faster, I pumped as the sun beat upon my body and the wind caressed my flesh. Within seconds, I could feel the orgasm building and I knew I couldn't hold it back again. I exploded onto the rocks, feeling light-headed from the release. Falling back on the rocks, I allowed the remainder of my cum to fall across my stomach and shoot up to the base of my neck to glisten in the sun.

For several minutes, I lay there, breathing hard, loving myself, continuing to playfully move my hand over my still throbbing erection. How could anything feel that good? Three years of pent up emotions released in a moment.

I looked down over my cum soaked body and found myself content and ready to start again. In fact, I couldn't wait to get back and tell Billie I had made a breakthrough - that I was starting fresh - and I couldn't wait to explore my body again... or feel someone else's body next to mine. I had come to the cusp of a new beginning and let go of much that had been. I knew I had healing yet to do, but I also, for the first time in years, felt a flood of anticipation at what could be. No longer defined by the pain, I could again know pleasure, and I hungered for it like a starving man!

Walking back into the lake, I swam once more, washing away what had been, and allowing the water to cool my flesh. I would again be wet, but I decided to use my shirt to dry my feet so I could wear my shoes to walk back to the car while I carried the test of my clothes. I wanted to remain naked as I was basking in the feel of it, but I was also beginning to long for home. I had so much I wanted to do and, though I didn't know it yet, someone waiting to do it with me. My new beginning had been right there all along.