Getting Some

Samera Sometimes, life's a bitch. And when I say a bitch, I mean that literally. Like life is some crazy woman hovering over the universe, dealing with a bad case of PMS. She could let you be happy, but she's got killer cramps at the moment, and if she's got to suffer, you're damn well going to suffer, too. So instead of giving you easy choices--like a clear path that's right, versus one that's obviously wrong--life is gonna mess with you. Present you with two paths you can see yourself taking, but you must choose one of them. And no matter which one you choose, you're going to feel bad. Hell, I know what I'm talking about. I just chose Path B, which is the path my heart told me I was supposed to take. I should feel a sense of resolve right now, a sense of peace. I should have a smile on my fucking face because I'm taking fond memories with me from my vacation, but instead I feel like shit. I just left a guy who likes me--no, adores me--probably completely heartbroken in Costa Rica. "Miguel." I say his name out loud, and his image pops into gorgeous smile of his, which is both sexy and sweet at the same time. My face flushes as I remember other things about him--like how eager he was to please me in the bedroom, to give me one mind-numbing orgasm after another. Is it possible I've made a mistake? I wonder as I stare out the small plane window, craning my neck for one final glimpse of the beautiful country where I spent the last two weeks of my life. Have I made the wrong choice? Choosing to leave Miguel and get on a plane heading back to the States was the hardest thing I ever had to do. One minute Miguel and I were moving full steam ahead to what I thought would be a serious commitment. The next, my fucking louse of an ex showed up claiming he still loved me--and I bought his lies, effectively changing my destiny with Miguel forever. Reed, my ex, actually tracked me down in Costa Rica, like he was Brad Pitt showing up at the end of the movie to claim his girl. He complicated the shit out of my relationship with Miguel. But even though I got wise to his game--realizing that Reed hadn't changed, he just didn't want to lose me--I had to accept one very certain fact: clearly, I didn't love Miguel the way a man deserves to be loved. If I did, Reed couldn't have walked back into my life so easily. And I care too much for Miguel to let him settle for half of my heart. Knowing that, however, doesn't make my decision any less painful. I really like Miguel, and I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for him. But I'm just not ready to make the big Love Commitment with him--or anyone for that matter--so it was far better that I leave him now than that I stay and break his heart in a couple months. I had to be fair to Miguel. If I didn't ultimately want what he wanted, I had to let him go. Still, I wonder if I'll ever meet another man like Miguel. When I told him I had to leave him, he was so friggin' under-standing. I'm used to guys punching holes in walls and cussing a blue streak when I break up with them. But Miguel--despite being sad--simply told me that I had to do what my heart told me I should. Right now my heart is aching. I'm not sure what that means. Moaning softly, I bury my face in my hands. Suddenly I wish I were back in my hotel room at the gorgeous ocean-deep within me, and my legs wrapped around his waist. I want him whispering words of passion to me in Spanish as he did for much of my two weeks in his country, making me scream his name as I come. That's what I should be doing. Instead, I'm sitting in coach class on a Delta Airlines flight, staring out the window like a lovesick fool, with the worst case of melan-choly gripping my heart. I glance to my left. The guy beside me, probably earlyPerrin, Kayla is the author of 'Getting Some ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373605149 and ISBN 0373605145.