‘’I knew you were going to be my second wife the moment I saw you.’’. Sweet defense or cowardly lie. The confusion would not cease.
I knew this day would define the rest of the year. I knew I would know by now. And now I do. Mr Moss was not for me.
I think about the world in terms of teams. We were dotted colors before we came to earth and we drop sparingly across the world. Then, if we’re lucky, we start finding each other. I was half confused and half clear about what had just happened. A teammate had played against me. Or as I’d like to think, he had played against himself.
We were eating at Tamarind, an Indian restaurant that reminded me of home and of a weird future. Food was good, savory and warm. They kept messing my drink. It was like being caressed before taking a punch in the stomach. My screen lit up. I read Park City, that’s where we had met. He stood to the restroom. I had time to read the whole message and quickly stood to the restroom too.
Breathe in, breathe out. You saw it in your dreams last night.
A blonde woman. There was a confirmation in the picture attached to the message. One was not enough. She insisted on sending more.
Sometimes the lengths some people will go to to prove a point, prove many other points I’m not sure they intended on showing and proving.
The conversation during dinner consisted on this man telling me he was certain he wanted to be in a relationship with me. It looked like a negotiation, a bet, a deal to seal. I was putting option A, B and C on the table. Two included not being in a relationship and keeping the friendship. Minus the across the globe efforts to go see each other. This was the fifth time in less than three months. I felt he wasn’t ready for a true commitment. There’s a difference between official company and internal commitment to a common life project. His newly single era still had a great career ahead. I did not feel like interrupting that. The man had stamina for women and life. And I could feel it was going to be directed further than just me. I could also tell it was not about me, it was his nature.
Trying to tame someone’s nature, we know by now, is a futile effort. ‘‘Just date someone whose nature you’re comfortable and at peace with’’ I told myself. But I was comfortable here. Not just comfortable, I was happy, I was excited, and above all, I could not just be myself I could be my many selves. He enjoyed them all. Or at least was curious about them. Where there’s no judgement, there’s definitely more joy.
I was beginning to feel ready to pinky swear something with him. As scary as it gets. Knowing all this and wanting all that. The six month plan was laid out. We shared more plans and desires than needs. On the simple stuff, we were as compatible as it’d get. Or as it had gotten for me. I had to pray for signs because the visible was invincible. It was undeniably great. We owed each other nothing and that gave way to interesting kinds of generosity.
I was not looking for a relationship when we met. I was emotionally unavailable and had stopped dating people who were clearly ready for a relationship conducive to marriage. I had to connect to what I suspected were my psychic powers, to my intuition and I wanted to create more space for my upcoming cooking show. Sharing a house or an apartment didn’t feel like the right move at the time. Thing I knew I’d slide into if I were to soften my heart on another man’s pan.
I found men not to be the enemy, but the obstacle. If creativity takes the most precious energy we have to give, I had given it all away to him. Everything he loved me for, was everything he ended up taking. Or I ended up giving.
This was my way to love. Up until that point.
I was tired. I was done. I wanted to be lifted out of this world into a cosmic abyss - up there - where nobody could find me. Where nobody could even know I was missing. As if I’d never been here.
Our story was lived in a bubble. And that bubble had bursted. I had crashed down into my reality. Back to the space and life I had with myself. The one you feel satisfied or sad about when you go to bed. One I had not really been present with. I kept escaping to meet him in the middle. And had left so many pieces along the way.
From dream to nightmare in what fell like a nap.
‘‘You don’t do your nails for me anymore.’’
‘‘I never did them for you.’’
My London lease was up. And I had to renew my lease with myself.
-Marguga
PS: This might all be true or this might all be fiction. Or a combination of both.
London lease
Guga, resonó mucho conmigo...qué bellas las semillas que brotan del desamor, solo con el rocío de esa burbuja que estalló.
Wow, me quedé sin palabras, la parte de “Everything he loved me for, was everything he ended up taking. Or I ended up giving.” realmente la sentí demasiado, amé este escrito 🤍🤍