He hated me. He hated the fact that I was genuine and honest about my sexual interesses and desires and that I could have an honest relationship with my ex partner.
He never tried to understand or listen about my point of view over that fact. He just wanted me to feel as desperate as he felted, to be as cheated as he was constantly feeling of being. He was feeling miserable, angry and lost and I was the punching bag. A very hot, sexual and loving punching bag for all the dirty nasty things he did to me. He lied to me before I even asked. He showed me the texts. He told me about their relationship, how it was it, I didn't even asked about it: he just needed to put it out of his body the same of his actions, but he couldn't be satisfied by just be lying and cheating and manipulating, he needed to throw to the world how much he hated that action, how non-negotiably disgusting this action was so he needed to be the best of the men available on the planet - flowers, chocolated and baby promisses - specially after the fights, where he would get inside of me repeating I love you I love you I love you...
Of course I donated my full self to this story. Its was the story of my life.
My whole life I was waiting for someone. Someone would come, I knew it. I mean, that was the only happy ending we expect as women I guess after we are already hot, studuied and wealthy. No? At least, for me, I could definitely say that pairing up was one of my early adulthood plans / dreams.
O que tinha além da química honestamente?
O peso, o gosto pesado, o lodo, o fantasma grudado, a arquiteta empregnada na parede, o olhar... o olhar. O olhar negro, que não me fitou até a praia em março, fatídico mês, o peso que se mostrava logo no primeiro momento e que voltava, de alguma forma, mascarado com o perfume do sexo de volta para mina casa, minha vida, a qual eu já não queria mais ter e só desejava ser, rapidamente, socorrida, salva, alguém me tira de lá...
Lembrar de nunca mais viver uma vida que se odeia. Anotado.
Larguei tudo. Esporte. Casa. Entreguei porque já estava nas nuvens, já estava em leilão.
Mal saiu um, e o lugar foi replacido. Não teve luto, não teve dor, afinal, "eu não perdi nada, só ganhei" - segundo meu inconsciente manipulado. Complicado.
Estudada para dar exatamente o que precisava. Companhia, apoio, tudo que eu precisava e não estava tendo naquela minha relação. Química. Risada. Eu muito empática e flexível. Ele num jogo quase imperceptível (que por vezes escapava à minha visão, como aquele dia eu que eu soluçava de tanto chorar no terreiro após tomar uma pílula do dia seguinte porque a possibilidade de estar grávida de alguém me manipulava tanto, inclusive nessa possibilidade de gravidez, me assustava - e muito). Acho melhor a gente parar de gozar dentro - eu disse. Do êxtase à realidade. Sombra. Caos. Ódio. Muito ódio.
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