“He shall be kept alive to always remind me of how close I came to danger.”
You contacted me yesterday. I was surprised. After almost eight years. There are millions of things that happened. You told me.
You fell in love. Head over heels you said. Your femme fatale, that’s how you described her. You sent me the picture of the two of you together. I saw a couple of things there. First: she doesn’t look like it. But who am I to say? Second: You’ve changed! Hardly recognizable. Only the blond hair and the blue of your eyes remind me of the person I used to know.
Lost weight again, I noticed; which seems a pattern every time you are embarking on a new relationship. Not that you need to shade some extra pounds. You look okay. Always been. In fact, too good. A right combination of alpha traits and vulnerability with baby blue eyes and a very sharp and creative mind to match, qualities that supposed to attract me on papers; only I don’t like blue, and on papers, everything looks good.
You see, I may be weird on papers and sometimes in reality too; but my oddness does not stretch to handcuffs or ropes, a paddle or a whip, and probably leather outfits and masks. No, thank you. My idea of fun does not include being tied up (even with a velvet rope) or torture (even with feathers) or humiliated (for a kick) or be dominant (for the sake of God knows what) it’s simply not my thing.
What a pity. Aside from that, I could see us together; and apparently you too because you say you are willing to throw away all your gadgets for me. In theory_ possible, but in practice_ unbelievable. It is difficult to hide one’s true nature. It will come to the surface sooner or later.
After the initial euphoric state of being in love is over, and the novelty had worn out; I wonder if you would not be tempted to go back to your old habits. That risk I cannot take.
You went on telling how it had been for you. How you chose to go headlong into disaster. You said you were aware of how a fool you are right from the beginning. I didn’t expect that. Shocked and disbelief was written all over my face. If you could only see me.
I guess I was wrong about you. I told you that too. I said I had another idea of the person. Now, that is gone also.
You were always drawn to difficult women I said.
“Remember, I was drawn to you too.” That was your answer.
Then you go on telling me how I hurt you, hurt D. and myself as well. I am not aware I was hurt and when did it happen.
When you were on your way to get me to go to the film festival and D called you.
The two of you had an argument over the phone; you told him he’s isolating me. That’s when it happened you said.
I remember that.
We had to pull over to the side of the road because he was beside himself. That’s why I decided to stay.
It hurts being stood up, you insisted.
That’s maybe true, but not enough to get a tattoo. The situation didn’t allow you to, you said. That’s BS! We both know it.
I sent you my recent photos. You asked for it. Thinking I’m maybe pregnant? It’s impossible. Didn’t I tell you? I can’t remember.
I threw in a couple of shots of me and D. Why? No idea.
We look so in love. That was the comment. I told you I could fake. You didn’t buy it.
Your relationship is over. You don’t love her anymore. Another BS! Love is not water that you can wipe off easily when spilled and will be dry in seconds. Now, I am the one who’s not buying it. Either you are fooling me or yourself. It could be both.
Anyway, I’m glad you did. Contacted me I mean. Now I could let go of my ideas of you and the ‘what could have been.’ Now I know I didn’t miss something. Nothing special slipped through my fingers. At least now, I could probably sleep better… now, that it’s over… the fantasy is over.
And the box… I’ll hang onto it. To remind me of how hard you tried to pave your way into my heart (and into my pants) to keep me sober when I need/want to… run away and try something new. And as Elizabeth had once said: “To always remind me of how close I came to danger.”
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