Breaking free of memories

This past summer, I met a guy.
We texted every single day.
Once a week, we sat under the stars, in the back of a beaten down, old Chevy truck.
We talked.
We laughed.
We dreamt.
We crossed things off of our bucket list, one-by-one.
Well, I did.
(I never knew I wanted to make out in a hay shed, on bales of hay, until I actually did it.)

It didn't last.

I wanted something more.
He didn't.
It was confusing.
It got awkward.
I grew emotional.
He grew distant.

When I see the sky lit up at night,
The moon shining brightly, &
The stars dancing in their glory,
I remember.

I remember him.
I remember his touch.
I remember his words.
I remember his smile.
I remember that truck.

I can't help but smile.
It was one of those summers!

But in my memories of this summer, I find dysfunction.

Because even though it sounds beautiful and romantic and breathtaking, the truth remains that it was just sex.

Just.sex.

I experienced intimacy in our conversations, more than I had with anyone else before.

Intimacy often makes a woman fall...

...and fall hard!

I fell.
And I fell hard.

But I fell in love with the intimate moments and conversations, not necessarily the guy.

I fell in love with the fantasy I had made up in my head. The love story I wanted to experience. The one a girl fabricates so she can keep doing what isn't always good for her.

So, tonight, I smile as I look up into the big ole' sky, lit up by its twinkling stars, and I give, to God, those memories of my summer nights, in that old Chevy truck.

Tonight I BREAK FREE from those memories that confuse intimacy and sex. The ones that tell me I need to be sexual in order to be intimate.

Tonight I'm BREAKING FREE of the memories that tell me I'm only good for sex, not a relationship.

I smile at the star's tonight because I deserve those intimate moments, within a relationship.