How many Vampyres get to find love with another Vampyre? In other places where there is a healthy scene and where we can mix more freely and openly, I’m sure it does happen – but what about in South Africa? By this, I mean to ask: how often do we get to form real life intimate relationships with someone else like us?
Recently I was fortunate enough to spend a week on vacation with another sanguine, who I’d already known for more than a year. We had become close friends over that time, and come to consider her as a dear friend, a beloved vampyric sibling – my blood sister, or lalae.
My lalae and I met once before in real life, in October 2011, and for me it was a remarkable experience to meet the person I had been talking to on Facebook and on chat services for what was then only months. She must have liked me in real life as well, because she decided to come back this year, to spend time with me and to get to know me better.
To meet and talk with someone with whom you have so much in common, and with whom you can freely discuss the deepest most personal aspects of your being, is a rare and very special thing – and I’m surprised it doesn’t lead more often to deeper involvement between our kind.
Being with someone like ourselves means not having to hide from them what you would hide from non-vamps. It offers a chance to let down our guard, to let someone in with whom we share certain things. Things like the dark side to our natures, the dreams and desires we have, our memories and experiences – our fears, our strengths and weaknesses, the common ground between us – and each having an understanding of what the other is.
Being close to another like yourself is special, and in my experience, too rare a thing. More than just talking, doing things together puts a whole new light on the experience – things like sharing a couple of shots of moo-negative, and making faces about it – or joking about buying a bunny from a pet store instead. Comparing notes about life, about the hurts and pains in your past, and drawing parallels between them and hers. Connecting dots.
Noticing little things like, oh yes, that little thing you do with your mouth means you’re nibbling the inside layer of skin from your cheeks and lips to get the taste of blood – and don’t those annoying little loose flaps of skin that grow back keep you busy for hours?
When it gets hot and heavy, there’s the tenderness and the hardness of kisses that turn into sharp little nips when the resolve wears thin, the light playful scratches around the body that bring forth pleasure, and the sharing of each other’s essence – something deep and personal to us, and of great value and reserved for those dearest to us.
There is a place where blood and love mix, and where it becomes complicated and confusing – impossible to tell them apart, where one begins and the other ends and yet it is both thrilling and exhilerating at the same time. For a moment, while you are together, the thing you thought of as a curse your whole life seems to be nothing else but a beautiful glorious blessing full of things you hadn’t seen before that were hidden right before you, in sight. And then, while the dynamics of a long distance relationship briefly surface, other thoughts cross your mind and smother them… thoughts that say “once you’ve tasted this kind of love, you won’t ever want to go back to a Shinai partner again”.
Yes, she lives in another city, and despite practicality and other mounting factors life throws in the path, “long distance” need not always end in tears.
It’s the kind of passion that puts on public displays of affection in front of people, without caring what they think because you know that deep down you two are awesome together and they are missing out. It’s the love that burns inside and demands that you stand up and shout out how much you love that person, without caring who likes it and who doesn’t. It’s in the counting of the scratches and the tender bruises and bite marks and the knowing apologetic tenderness that comes with the aftermath. It’s in the giggles and warm feeling inside as you look into each other and savor it all and think contentedly how wonderful it is to be alive after all, and to be here.
Vamps are awesome dating partners for other vamps. We have sharp edges, even in relationships. We like our own space sometimes, can be vain, harsh and selfish and arrogant – and at others, we’re as needy, clingy and fragile as delicate china, clinging to those we love for dear life. We substitute other things in place of feeding, anything that may be good – or bad for us, and which just numb the pain of the craving for a while. We sometimes do things we might not agree with, or which our partners might not like or tolerate, and this can cause friction, estrangement and hurt.
It’s taken me my whole life to realize that this is my nature, and this is why my relationships are always so complicated – but for the first time, being with another sang vamp has helped me realize how well two of us compliment and support each other. When one is weak, the other is strong. And knowing why the other feels the way they do when they do – the same reasons YOU do – makes allowance for all kinds of failings in the other person, and inspires patience and tolerance for each other’s inevitable flaws. It also means that eventually you have all the answers when it comes to dealing with each other, and with other Vampyres.
I had forgotten what it’s like to love someone and to be loved in return, and that week, I was reminded about what that’s like. It was so amazing to have someone so close who understands it all, who knows the same thirst and the same pain. And someone to share a few shots of *gag* moo-negative with. And someone to bleed for, and who bled for me too. To taste each other’s essence and take each other in and feel our energy join and merge and ignite in a deep caring love. And if after all this I say “words fail me”, then you might know how profound this was.
There are few perks to being such as we, and of them all, these have to be the greatest.