Denial didn’t prevent the arrow from touching my heart…
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Have you ever struggled so hard to have no feelings, for no result?
I curse my brain for being better at creating whimsical dreams of love than struggling with incipient feelings.
If you followed, my handsome American had turned my sex life, my sex life in Australia, but also my sex life in general, upside down. In fact, he also turned my heart upside down.
I wonder now if I wish I had never gotten it. Never to be able to have sex with him. If you’ve never tasted chocolate cake, there’s no lack, no nostalgia. Life goes on, full of cookies, mousses and other tiramisus. Yes, but too late, Girl, the chocolate cake, you’ve gobbled it up, you’ve tasted it, again and again, you’ve had a little more. Except that the chocolate cake will soon be out of stock and your hunger for it won’t disappear overnight.
After the road trip I was frustrated, then we had some good times, we thought it might be the last. It was cold, but the sex was still good. And then the last night was warm and tender, and my mind only wanted to remember the last few hours. If he really thought it could be our last time, my heart had decided it wouldn’t be.
I could have left, I would have liked to leave, to leave Perth, to go to Cairns, to move. To leave before being left. Give up before being given up. But I couldn’t.
It’s crazy how hope can make you make good or bad choices.
So beware, the first few times I tried denial. I was shouting from the rooftops that I was dicksick (and not lovesick), that I felt empty for losing such a good lover. Pfff nothing to do with feelings.
Yes, I was waiting for him to come back before I went back to bed with someone. No, but I just need to grieve this great blow, before falling back into sexual mediocrity. Feelings, tssss, no I don’t have any, anything!
Oh I’ll leave afterwards. Or after Christmas, I want to spend time with my friends.
Ah, I tried to hide my face, to play it cool.
Where’s the heartless hunter?
I’m not that person who gets attached when she decides she doesn’t… He slept with me because he knew I could handle a casual sex friend relationship… In principle ??
Obviously, my sex life was made of casual sex, guys I was seeing for fun, guys who were beautiful sometimes, interesting too, but I never fell in love with.
So yes, yes in principle, he was right. In principle, I’m totally capable of it.
Besides, I would have loved to be able to do it. I would have loved to have had no feelings involved. We could have taken advantage of it and bye. I don’t intend to meet love in Australia, it would be too complicated, too much logistics, too many questions. But do you really choose your moment?
I was able to, but not with him a priori.
Is it the right time? Am I at a time in my life when I feel like it? Do I need it? Or is it just because it’s him? Because I’ve been waiting for him, because he’s devilishly handsome, because he has a look to fall, because he makes love divinely well, because he makes me laugh, because I love to have discussions with him… And because he has this thing that makes me think I could love him.
A man too lovable
I have really loved only once, this love that gnaws at you, that inhabits you, possesses you, that gives you wings to fly and a shovel to bury you. His name was Amar and I would have given everything for him.
In my heart, I know that I could have felt, not the same love, but such intense love for Ben. That’s a certainty.
Wait, you’re getting carried away, you’ll tell me! You barely know the man! You’ve only had short moments, sex, go ok, a road trip. But finally, you can’t pretend to know that you would love him with so little.
No, I couldn’t. I had incipient feelings. I waited a month and a week without sleeping with any man. Almost a month and a half on a diet, without a cookie.
It was a long wait
And he came back, for 5 days, 5 nights. The private room of the hostel was not available, he booked an Airbnb for 2 days, I booked another one for the next 2. And the last night in a private room in our good old hostel.
During his absence, I tried everything to keep in touch. I wrote, he answered, I sent naughty pictures, he liked. The good old one-way love, you might say. Not false.
So I was stressed about the few days we were going to spend together in the Airbnbs. If one was close to the hostel, the other was more isolated. Uh, a weekend with your sex friend, is that really a rich idea?
Back at last
And then it happened and my doubts vanished.
He came to pick me up on the first night. I was all dressed up, I wanted to be as desirable as possible. A candy to be tasted.
After a bottle of wine, long discussions as I like them, I tasted it properly, and he quickly removed the candy wrapper.
The next day I left for work, with a smile on my face like I hadn’t had in months, years. Oops, I’m falling in love.
The second night, I’m a little disappointed to have to share him, since he wants to participate in the cheese and wine night. I like wine, I like cheese, but I wanted to eat only you. Finally I enjoy, and we go home a bit drunk at the Airbnb.
The dessert is delicious, sensual, greedy. Our skins meet again as if they hadn’t left each other.
If sometimes the gene settles when our brains meet again, our bodies sweep it away with a wave of their hand. The caresses, the kisses, the more daring gestures, have an extraordinary memory.
The next day, we enjoy ourselves again, this time in the light of day. He opens up, he looks more relaxed.
When intimacy comes into play
Direction the second Airbnb in Fremantle. The place is smaller and less charming than the first one. But we will be well there.
Two days and two nights between lovers.
I expected to spend most of my time reading or writing when he would make his life. Yet he gives me time, we go out, we walk, we laugh, we talk. It’s a weekend like a bubble, I learn to get to know him even more, he confides in me, he opens up. I confide in myself, I take off the hunter’s mask a little.
This new intimacy brings us closer. I observe him, I admire him in his little gestures of daily life. I feel more relaxed, I no longer pretend, my gaze changes and he notices it. He knows. He knows that my feelings are there.
The two days are full of sensuality, friendship and affection.
If I could stop time, I would. On Sunday, we go back to the hostel in the early afternoon. The bubble is broken. I stay with him all the same, then I give him his space for a while, before finding him again for one last night.
How I love making love to him, how good it feels to let myself go between his arms, to taste his skin, to feel him burning between my lips. I fall asleep with my head resting on his chest.
The next day, we wake up at the same time, work is calling us. How long will he disappear this time?
The goodbyes are longer than usual. I go over it several times, I glue my lips on his, I grab him. No, give me one more second, one minute.
And he leaves… Leaving in the hollow of my loins and in the hollow of my heart, a bitter nostalgia.