Platonic Passion
A small attic studio on the last (7th floor), a lot of light from two big windows, white walls. A cream-colored sofa between these windows… A small bottle of vodka, tonic and pickles found in the fridge. It was supposed to be a romantic, even “platonic” evening…
The idea to spend a platonic night together came to me because my body still felt the passionate day we had spent together 10 days ago, when we made love 4 times during those joyful and harmonious 23 hours, starting from the doorway of the rented apartment (not that I was counting, I just wouldn’t expect that from myself). My body gets sensitive, what can I do? I even tried to make a rule of “once a date” before we started to do overnights to avoid getting hurt from being unreasonable and going wild. I preferred to suggest it in advance and even tried to postpone this date for another long week. It turned out to be a disaster, you were laughing about it, but also nearly angry… You heard “no more sex”, when I was just saying, “I am not sure that my body can — but we still can meet, right?” After you apologized and said that you wanted to see me, in any case, of course…
The beginning of the evening was strange. You were suffering as if I were trying to switch our relationship to platonic. But I did not (do not) want platonic love. Not with you. But just one night? Maybe?
You tried so hard to make it non-physical. You resisted me. You were in pain, frustrated. I was suffering too but differently. I didn’t know how to say that it was ok, my body had recovered. However, it became so clear to me (just there, on that creamy sofa between the bright windows) why you didn’t believe in an romantic overnight, why you laughed at the idea earlier — I desired you as much as I loved you. The two feelings were inseparable.
You made a video of our kiss, on that sofa — it was so passionate and beautiful! We were fully dressed, just kissing, but it looked so erotic and naked. Our naked passion captured and stored in a couple of megabytes.
I gave up. But I didn’t want to disappoint your efforts to make the platonic night work. We got ready to go out. And then we kissed before heading to the door. It was relaxed and easy knowing that we’d be out in just a few moments. The last private kiss before letting the evening unfold in public. I put my hand beneath your t-shirt, to feel your skin. I took it off — it was just teasing, warming up your senses, firing that spark in your eyes that delights me so much. I expected you would resist. You let it slide and fly. You took off mine… No more frustration, no more pain. Just passion and love. It was beautiful and intense. You moaned from the beginning.
(your version) The moaning — I recall being so aroused and amazed that we were f_cking. It was such a relief to be inside you, surprised but elated that we had both reinvented Plato, or somehow honored the platonic with passionate lovemaking (not f_cking, actually). And I recall your passion, taking me in, holding me close, digging your nails into my back, gripping me inside. I love your passion, your hold...
I felt you explode inside me with strong and repeated pulsations, you were moaning. I loved that feeling. We were both released from the unbearable weight to be only friends, happy to be lovers again. It felt natural. Now I do not know if we can be friends. I honestly believed that we could before… I know you didn’t.
We spent a great night drinking wine, sharing entrecôte, smoking, talking about ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, my extraordinary school teacher. I think I talked too much but luckily you don’t remember much of it (I hope). We didn’t feel drunk at all. Not until the morning. Not even after mojitos and Moscow mules on the only open terrace in such a late hour. We could guess the unreasonableness of the time by the age (at least half our average) of the people filling the place with pleasing noises of careless happy laughter. We came back to the apartment around 2 am if not later. I fell asleep naked with makeup halfway down my cheeks after making love a second time. (I don’t know if you noticed the smeared makeup. I don’t know if you cared.) We were tired… The morning was short, too short. Because of work, duties, home — they all waited our return…
…
The next day you sent me a quote from an essay by Dr Kennedy: “Plato’s teacher Socrates famously spent the night alone with the leading sex-symbol of ancient Athens but resisted temptation,” says Dr Kennedy.
“Plato tells the story to show that true love aims at the soul and not the body, so many thought he was anti-sex and the myth of Platonic love spread far and wide. But Plato also celebrated eroticism and homosexuality, and shared the Greek view that naked bodies were beautiful, so historians have long debated his views.”
“In The Symposium — Plato’s great play about love and sex — cheap attempts to trade sex for profit or favour sit above dissonant notes in the musical scale showing Plato’s disapproval. But passages about erotic passion born of an abiding love for another’s soul sit on top of some of the most harmonic notes, meaning he accepted sex as a part of true love.”
You: Did you know Plato was a fan of eroticism?
Me (joking): I knew it subconsciously…
Me: Did you know?
You: No, that’s why I was confused — to turn “wild passion” into “romantic, platonic” was worrying. Now I understand, that Plato’s ideal is “platonic passion”.
