Online Japanese exam practice

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For me, love is like sugar – I always think I can handle just a little, but then I fall deep into craving.

Key:

He = man in open relationship with whom I carried on a 5 year long-distance relationship, ending this year
Someone else = single, available man I’m sort-of seeing
Little one = my cat

My world outlook improved. I saw the connections more, between people, between things, between moments. Eyes brightened. Learned how to really, truly communicate non-violently. Didn’t want to taint it with any violence, even words, thoughts. Remember grocery shopping, and him saying later, “I didn’t even want to go to another aisle because it felt too long to be away from you.” Running my fingers through his hair as his head lay gently on my chest, feeling like he was a little boy, just searching for motherly love. That time at the hotel where for 30 minutes just his middle finger was inside me, me moving around, knowing I have felt this before, somewhere far off, but where, escaping me – for now, it’s the biggest itch that’s been scratched. Standing in the coffee shop, explaining to him where I sat and worked on Mondays and the occasional Tuesday or Thursday, only to see him smile, far off, leaning into me, kissing my lips as the baristas looked on. I gave into being loved. He said, “but you have no walls, at least with me.” Wanting him to know, yes, I have no walls, at least with you.

Someone else says, “like a fort, with layers of walls. I’ve brought down some, but there’s still more to go.” I say to someone else, “we’re friends, right?” and then I ask him to rub my back. I worry I am like a fort, and that the only time walls come down is when it can’t be. I ask someone else; he says he was just joking, but that jokes sometimes are more real than the battles we so violently fight for. I want to say, “but you aren’t the package I thought it would come in. How do I know?” With him, I knew, but I knew I couldn’t have him. So the walls fell, because there was no threat, really. No real threat of rejection, no real threat of being overwhelmingly loved. I whimper at the sky, “but someone else isn’t the package I thought it would come in?” I can’t look at someone else and think, ‘I see you on top of me.’ Is this just reactionary, protection, distancing something that might be exactly what I crave?

I know I never choose the easy route. But with him, I felt ease. I felt held. I felt cherished. With someone else, I just feel…there.

Someone else says, “It’s like a work of art. You know that, right? Your body could have been created. Painted.” I stand in front of someone else in front of the mirror, my black cotton underwear resting just below the curve of my belly, moved around by someone else’s fingers twisting the elastic straps on each side. I rub back against someone else, wanting so much to feel with someone else.

An hour later, my mind is racing – can I give up the intensity? I mean, I was turned on; it felt good. But I just didn’t want to see someone else up close, didn’t want to devour someone else’s body. “Look at this total package,” someone else said, drawing a box around my face. “This little nose. That smile I carried around with me all day. Your eyes…I know that you said you’re French, but it’s like you’re part Indian…they’re so big, it’s like you can see the whites around your pupils. I just get lost…”

Sweet smile. Sweet talk. Wanting to want someone else, really, really want. Maybe it’ll grow? It’s now 2:25am, someone else breathing heavily next to my ear. I squirm a bit so someone else will roll over – I can’t sleep with the breath in my ear. I can’t sleep knowing I don’t want to devour someone else’s body.

I’ve already said too much, opened up that part of me to let it be known what I like. Will I like these things with someone else? Do I want someone else there at all?