♥

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.”

I was hooked.

We both were.

We went for midnight drives, spent weekends away in hotels, walked in the woods and watched the stars, we sang along to music in bars, snuggled up to movies and had wild and passionate sex. Seriously the sex was mind blowing, adventurous and intense. It was that connection that made us so irresistible to each other.

We did the stages of dating slow, it wasn’t until, probably, the seventh or eighth date that we kissed, we were saving it, holding it back, we were finding other ways to connect and get to know each other. And after we started kissing, it was another month before we had sex, and then that was it, we couldn’t stop, didn’t want to, and we didn’t have to. We enjoyed each other for months and months, getting to know every inch of each other’s soul, it was the time of my life.

I think on some level we knew that once we’d had a taste, we’d devour each other, and that’s why we took it slow in the beginning, making sure we were really ready, and willing to lose ourselves. And I was blissfully lost among the firsts.

It was all so wonderful, I kept waiting for the other fin to flop, and it did.

He had a girlfriend.

She lived far away and he only saw her on the occasional weekends, so he was able to have almost a complete and full relationship with me. The worst part wasn’t how well he lied, and was able to live a double life, it was how I thought I’d finally found the one for me and now I’d have to give him up and the future I’d dreamed for us. Despite the secret girlfriend, he’d treated me so well, had been so honest, so connected, and so in love with me.

He’d been exactly what I wanted in a boyfriend. But now it was all over.

Catch ya later,

Ren.