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It was about two pm when he said he was leaving.
That morning I went to meet my high-school friend, Marianne. She was eager to find out how Sam and I were doing.
'So? Are you two finally calling it a relationship? You can't be fuck buddies forever, you know.'
Sam and I met a few years ago, and since then he was the only man in my life. Was I his only love and lover? I still don't know. I guess I was afraid of the answer, so I never asked.
'Honey, it's been over two years. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but what the fuck?'
I glanced at her trying to look embarrassed. It didn't quite work, because at the time I loved him, and I was sure he felt the same about me.
'He's an ass, and he is using you. Shit, I know he's your first, but come on! Where's your self-respect?'
Marianne kept on listing all the things that were wrong with my so-called relationship. He didn't respect me; he was in it only for sex. He is using me because he knows he can.
It was all true. All of it. And honestly, I couldn't care less. I thought that love means sacrifice, and I was a true martyr.
I loved my strong man, devotedly. I loved the way he took charge. I loved the way he kissed. He was coarse, abrupt and cold, but when he made love to me, all of that coldness melted into honesty and beauty. I didn't care about how difficult it was, and I couldn't care less about his disappearing acts. All of the carelessness came from the way his body communicated with mine. In the silence of our bedroom, I believed he truly loved me.
I explained all this to Marianne and we parted a few goodbyes after she said:
'Sex is not love. Love can be translated into sex. The other way around is impossible. You need to leave him before he leaves you, before he leaves you without your self-respect and pride.'
I couldn't.
I got home around two. I walked into my apartment and found him on the couch, a plastic bag sitting next to him.
'I'm leaving, Jack.'
His eyes were as cold as ever.
'Oh, I see. So, you're not staying for lunch?'
As he got up, I flinched. My body took over me as my mind anticipated his touch. I thought his eyes were about to light up once more.
'I'm leaving you, Jack,' he specified.
My knees gave out. I found myself kneeling before him, seeking to save love through sex. I begged. Oh, how I begged. Sam took a few steps away from me, in disgust.
'Don't be pathetic. At least today, try not to be pathetic. Jesus!'
I was sitting on the floor, looking at him, hoping. Even at that moment I hoped that he will tell me he loved me.
'Are you at least going to tell me why?'
Sam grinned at me with more disdain than I thought was possible to convey through a single grin.
'Still pathetic, Jack. I'm done with you and your pathos.'
Not even goodbye.
The last I've heard of Sam was that he got married and became a father. I cried. For his child and his wife. I knew what it means to think you can make Sam love you.
Post je objavljen 31.01.2009. u 17:50 sati.