A man-woman friendship that ends in sex, ends well. Well, maybe it doesn’t end well, but the friendship usually ends.

We weren’t ‘allowed’ to have sex. We weren’t ‘available’, so we shared any physical pleasure we could without resorting to sexual intercourse.

Restaurants, snack nights, sun bathing, massages, swimming, running, cycling, windsurfing, wrestling (a lot of wrestling), but mainly:

Alcohol (mostly cocktails with dirty names), food (lots of red fruit and melons) and talk, talk, talk. Talk about anything.

Also a lot of shopping for clothes. Only sort of legitimate way I get to see your breasts.

I never had so much fun with a girl. We’d go outside during the summer, walking arm in arm under a UFO-sized, yellow umbrella. Telling people to step out of the way who were already miles out of our way. Sneaking into cinema’s by the backdoor, so we wouldn’t have to pay. The money we saved I spent on cherry flavored candy for you.

I swelled with pride when we walked the streets together. You were a pretty hot looking chicks. A real hardbody with big steamy eyes, like a libidinous bambi.

 When we did have sex- Somewhere near  the end of one of our wrestling matches. Somewhere under your kitchen table- it didn’t even feel like our first time together. More like the 1000th time in a three year relationship that still has fire in the belly and gone over to the first step of kinkiness. Some biting, some mild to medium bruising, some rough kissing that makes your lips feel like chewed gum.

We wanted to keep the authenticity between us intact. We figured if we started a real relationship we would cheat on each other within the next three to four months. Probably even sooner.  So we decided to leave it at that one time.

Back to restaurants and all the rest.

But the ersatz activities didn’t do it any more. So we were doomed anyway.

‘It’s better to burn out than to fade away’, you texted me.

 I understood. We were that close.

 Close enough to both realize at the same time, it was time to cherish the memories and be forever apart.

04-08-2011 om 19:28 geschreven door Tederdraads  

Church bells. If the music is not too loud, church bells accompany our every fuck.

We are sharing two rooms in an old house, right next to a small church. You fantasize about doing it in the backyard or in those box-like cabinets where people come to confess their sins. There are videocameras hidden in every corner of the church, so we end up not doing it.

Standing naked for one second in our doorway, is about as far as you go, acting out your exhibitionism.

Sex is still relatively new, a bit newer to me than to you, but still new enough to you, to make even doggy style sort of experimental.

I’m really not used to being so intimate with a girl. So it sort of feels like you are boy, only way prettier, with breasts and no penis. I have no idea how to handle what’s going on.

You break up every routine I have. I used to go running 12 kms every other morning. I don’t do that any more. Sleeping in and having sex with you, beats the hell out of getting up at 6am to go and run ten laps around a park.

Your blue eyes and black hair will be on my wish list for years to come after you are gone. That’s past now. I buried you, in a way, when I buried the little boy inside me. His death knell started echoing when I met you. I didn’t realize it then. Though the song in the background ‘No way back’, felt like some kind of adrenaline  filled omen.

Most first loves have to die too. Or at least be destroyed at some point, before they can be allowed to be reignited. Our love died.

Mainly because I thought any pretty looking girl was exactly like you. And so pretty looking girls should have been interchangeable. Nope. They weren’t.

So our path didn’t lead to church bells and two whispered ‘I do’s’.

You did break my autistic patterns. I still don’t know if that’s such a good thing. It gave me the strange and rather self-sabotaging association that a disciplined life can’t be combined with great sex.

I should mention the obvious part: you left me because you couldn’t stand my ongoing self-analysis any more. I don’t blame you.

If a relationship depended on sex and sex alone, we’d still be together.

04-08-2011 om 15:41 geschreven door Tederdraads