You Said You Were Uncomfortable with Affection, but You Were Really Just Uncomfortable with Me

Sometimes the memories of our time together pop back into my head. I loved our date at the minigolf course, where you give me a surprise kiss after you shot a hole in one over the tiny river and through the windmill. But when we saw a friend from school walking our direction, you quickly pulled your hand away.

At the time you said you didn’t like public displays of affection, but now I know you just didn’t want to be seen holding the hand of a 206 year old man.

Oh well.

For a long time I rationalized. “Maybe she’s just

tired of hearing about the war effort” I said. But then I learned about self-blame. I realized I deserve love even if I’m 6’4”, and my physical appearance diminished dramatically during my five years as president. You didn’t have to laugh at me when I told you I wanted to see my wife and kids again. I know Mary Todd, Robert, Tad, and Willy died a long time ago, but I came back from the dead, why not them?

*sigh*

You were always less comfortable than me in bed.

When I unclipped your bra, you didn’t think it was funny to call me the “Great Emancipator.” You seemed a little taken aback when I first told you my cock was fourscore and seven centimeters long. I guess that’s okay. Freeing the slaves wasn’t as hard as freeing you from your insecurities.

That’s behind us now.

But just once I wanted to feel like you were proud

of me, like I wasn’t some shame you kept hidden. When I lay by your side in your bed, your parents gone for the weekend, and the long hairs of my beard would brush up against your inner thigh as my mouth began a trail of kisses leading my tongue on it’s March to the Sea, I know that shudder of pleasure that coursed through your body was real. When you gave me a shy smile and my hand towards the zipper of your pants, I knew this Anaconda plan was going to make you scream louder than the citizens of a burning Atlanta.

I felt special. Not a lot of people make you happy, but for that one year, I felt like I was doing something right, just to hear you scream “FUCK ME UNDEAD ABRAHAM LINCOLN” once and for all.

I know we weren’t right for each other. I’m never going to change. But I miss you.

-AP ’19