Go-o-o-o-oal!

I lay beside her, lightly buzzed on wine and pleasantly exhausted from yet another bout of lovemaking.

"You see what happens when you back off?" she said. "When you're initiating anything that feels like sex, it feels pushy and demanding. I know you don't mean it like that, but that's how it appears to me. But when you give me lots of space, that frees me to come to you. So to speak..."

I tried to think of something witty and profound to say. But the frontal lobe of my brain was still blood-deprived, and all the wrong neurons were firing. I simply smiled and nodded happily at her.

She grinned at my bemused countenance and continued. "Who initiated?"

"You did," I said happily.

"Who was in charge?"

"You were."

"And who got lucky twice today?"

"Me-e-e-e-e-e!" I crowed softly, imitating a silly voice she often uses.

"That's right," she smiled. She extracted me gently and rolled off again.

.....

In the morning:

"I'm not saying this is the way things are going to be," she began. "I'll probably have to back off again."

I had a mild headache from too much wine (and not enough water) the night before, and was feeling incredibly damned good from the lazy, sexy weekend. Too good to get up for work, but duty calls.

"I know, baby. I'm not assuming anything," I replied, looking around for wherever my underwear got flung to last night.

"You know, but you'll be all offended with me," she said, not looking at me.

"Offended?! No. Hell, no," I replied emphatically. "Disappointed, yeah, a little. But not angry or offended. Yesterday was... really fantastic. I'm not expecting a repeat anytime soon." She can't handle expectations or pressure of any kind, and so I know: if I ever want her love, I must stand back and gently woo her. I have to let her come to me.

The brutal irony is this: in my years of depression, I was neglectful. I didn't pursue her the way she wanted and needed. I silently demanded that she come to me instead. Now that I've conquered the depression and passionately long for her, she's not able to accept my pursuit.

We have the worst timing, she and I.

The rest of the morning she was friendly but distant. I hate that. But I understood, and the recent sex really helps me deal with things much more graciously.

"See you tonight, oh-delight-of-my-eyes," I smiled, and went in for a kiss. She turned her face to receive it on her cheek, and turned her back on me. "Okay. Have a good day," she said.

I looked at her back for a moment, heart full and aching. Then I turned and stepped out into the cold October rain.