Inspired by the Grass Roots Song:  Midnight Confessions

She saunters to the table, wearing that little black dress that she knows I love to see on her.  Her smile tells me that the drink in her hand isn’t her first.  It’s comfortable, relaxed, happy, and not just a little flirtatious.  The music in the background is soft, but evident and her hips sway unconsciously to it’s rhythm.

“Are you just going to sit there all night? Or are you going to get up and join the rest of us?” She asks me.  I wonder if she has any idea of the effect that she has on me?  I almost groan aloud, but catch myself in time as I watch her put the straw from her drink to her lips.

I manage to keep my voice friendly and nonchalant. “Oh, I dunno. I’m having plenty of fun watching all you drunks making fools of yourself out there dancing,” I joke.

“Drunk?!?!” she asks, her smile tells me I must have just unknowingly challenged her. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” My heart aches as she reaches for my arm to drag me away from the safety of the table.  A jolt of electricity jumps through me as her skin contacts mine. “C’mon,” she tells me, dragging me to my feet, “You’ve been the playing the recluse long enough.”

I’m hoping that she doesn’t notice the melancholy smile on my face as I reluctantly rise.  I can’t help but stare at the little gold ring around her finger, wishing I was the one who put it there.

For the rest of the night I have to watch her dancing with the rest of our group.  We’re all out here tonight after finally closing the deal with our biggest client to date.  Too many hours we’d all spent at our tables, making little changes requested to the facade, the landscaping, the lighting of the office building for a ‘to be named later’ law firm.  But the deal was done, and now we’re all out at this “intimate” little jazz club she’d gone to a while back.  I know that I’ll be having the same dream tonight that I’ve had almost every night since all these late work nights started.

It’s a simple dream, really.  I’m walking down the street with her on my arm.  Sometimes it’s just the two of us, sometimes we’re with a group of friends.  Sometimes I’m quiet when I tell her, sometimes I’m shouting it out to the world.  But the words are always the same.  And as I watch her on the dance floor now, they still are the same and I want to tell her, “I love you.”

I stagger into work the next day, having slept very little.  And of course she’s there.  With a ready smile and a cheerful “Good morning.” My heart flutters at what I think is a one of those “meaningful stares” that I hear so much about.  But I fall back again from my reverie, almost immediately.  She reaches up her hand to brush a gorgeous strand of hair that has fallen over her eyes.  Her left hand.  The hand with that blasted little gold ring.

I resign myself to the rest of the day I have ahead of me. I try to bury the thoughts rushing through my mind, the electricity coursing through my body.  I know that she’ll never be mine and that all of my “I love yous” are going to have to remain my secret, and all of my dreams and desires are going to have to remain my hidden midnight confessions.



 


Comments

07/04/2016 3:21am

There is no greater pain than to love someone dearly, in silence. When you love someone in silence, it encompasses the joy, the happiness, the tears and tears that you also have to endure silently. Loving in secret means getting hurt in secret, until you realized that you have to move on, secretly, too. The more I encounter things like these, the more I believe that two people, together, is a miracle. Nevertheless, I still believe that people come into our life because of two reasons, either a blessing or a lesson. Choose well.

Reply
06/10/2017 9:59pm

If I were to confess about something right now, it would be the one of my biggest pet peeves is the people who doesn't have any idea how bad their feet smells. I know this may sound like a very weird topic, but bear with me on this one. While they're so proud of flaunting their own feet, everybody else is probably dying from the smell of their feet. It's just so annoying how improper they are from their own hygiene. I don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings, but we all need to learn how to manage our own proper hygiene. A person with a good hygiene makes a healthy and well-conditioned person. So, start doing it for yourself and for everyone as well.

Reply

This is a moving story. I can feel the pain you are feeling when you wrote this. It really is hard when you love someone in silence. You can never be truly happy because you want this person to know just how much you want to be with them. But you never do this because you don’t want to jeopardize the relationship you have with this person so instead, you keep all these feelings to yourself until they start to bottle up and without realizing it, you’re about to burst with frustration. There is no easy way out in loving someone secretly. That is just the harsh truth.

06/11/2017 10:50pm

I don't want anyone to come into my life simply to be a lesson. I believe we are all connected and we never really leave each other. Death is only temporary. You will see each other again as brothers or daughters in your next life. You could be lovers or enemies. The pain is temporary. It is a relief to remember this.

Reply
08/26/2016 11:04pm

I was going to say "just another story of unrequited love.." but I thought to myself - Aren't we all like this at some point in our liife? Who among you here has not fantasized about a classmate or office mate for the first few days you met them, only to find out they belong to someone else. But that's not even the saddest story yet. Even if they happen to be single, would they choose you? How often is it that the answer is always "I am not his/her type."

Reply
01/04/2017 11:07am

Interesting story to read before going sleep. Have a good dreams!

Reply
06/20/2017 8:11am

wow

Reply

Great to read such stories. I like reading such things to be pleased.

Reply
07/19/2017 2:06pm

I must say hats off to the most beautiful depiction of this silent, one sided love of a boy. The way he confesses his love but is hesitant to tell the lady for which all his emotions exist is commendable.

Reply



Leave a Reply