Long after a relationship ends, I often find that I live in a dream world. I withdraw into my safe shell, avoid going clubbing, avoid dating, socialising or doing anything that might accidentally result in me meeting my ex. Even though I've more or less convinced myself that I've moved on, time always proves that I'm a fickle overemotional bastard...
So let me tell you about a recent weekend...
I decided to go out after a long period of staying away from public life. I'd been silent for long enough and like a new born calf, I wanted to test my unsteady, shaky legs in the normal world. So on the weekend in question, I stepped out of my cave, shivering and shaking wondering what the night had in store. I was actually intent on getting a pretty young thing to take home and wear out with all my pent up sexual energy. My wingmen (the dudes who fly with me into "dangerous situations" with a view to taking down as many birds as possible) and I hit a club and I start to hunt various prospects.... and that's when it happened....
As I walk away from the bar, whisky and soda in hand, I see her across the club. There she is. The club is dark but she seems to glow like a diamond in the rough. She looks even more beautiful than I remember. She's dressed to kill and my eyes don't seem to be lying: She's in the arms of a six foot mandingo who looks like a successful lawyer, part time doctor and part time porn star. In short, he's just as stunning as she is and they look like the perfect supermodel couple. I can't help compare my 5'4 unfit potbelly-having frame to this broad shouldered muscular sixpack-having Maurice Chestnut carbon copy who's now openly fondling her.
My mind starts racing and my heart starts pounding. My forehead gets moist and then a bead of salty sweat stings my eyes which only forces tears to well up faster than they should. My knees start trembling. My palms are now so clamy that my glass falls from my hands, smashes into my brand new white shoes and stains them with amber whisky. I'm frozen as I stare at the two. From across the room and through all the noise and blaring music, I hear her laughter. I remember that laugh: It's the laugh that she uses to say: "Take me home now..."
I begin to see this hunk of a man lifting her off her feet and tearing her clothes off.... She responds by stripping him faster than I can blink. She's even more passionate than I ever saw her. She whispers that she loves him and pushes him onto a couch.... A love making session unlike anything I ever remember is about to begin....
Suddenly I hear my friends shouting.... I notice that I'm lying on the floor.... I had fainted. They lift me up and my blurry vision begins to focus. I look across the club. Mandingo is holding my ex's hand and leading her out of the club and towards the parking lot. She reaches back and squeezes his firm butt....laughing...
She didn't even see me faint.... That's when it hit me: It really is over....
So let me tell you about a recent weekend...
I decided to go out after a long period of staying away from public life. I'd been silent for long enough and like a new born calf, I wanted to test my unsteady, shaky legs in the normal world. So on the weekend in question, I stepped out of my cave, shivering and shaking wondering what the night had in store. I was actually intent on getting a pretty young thing to take home and wear out with all my pent up sexual energy. My wingmen (the dudes who fly with me into "dangerous situations" with a view to taking down as many birds as possible) and I hit a club and I start to hunt various prospects.... and that's when it happened....
As I walk away from the bar, whisky and soda in hand, I see her across the club. There she is. The club is dark but she seems to glow like a diamond in the rough. She looks even more beautiful than I remember. She's dressed to kill and my eyes don't seem to be lying: She's in the arms of a six foot mandingo who looks like a successful lawyer, part time doctor and part time porn star. In short, he's just as stunning as she is and they look like the perfect supermodel couple. I can't help compare my 5'4 unfit potbelly-having frame to this broad shouldered muscular sixpack-having Maurice Chestnut carbon copy who's now openly fondling her.
My mind starts racing and my heart starts pounding. My forehead gets moist and then a bead of salty sweat stings my eyes which only forces tears to well up faster than they should. My knees start trembling. My palms are now so clamy that my glass falls from my hands, smashes into my brand new white shoes and stains them with amber whisky. I'm frozen as I stare at the two. From across the room and through all the noise and blaring music, I hear her laughter. I remember that laugh: It's the laugh that she uses to say: "Take me home now..."
I begin to see this hunk of a man lifting her off her feet and tearing her clothes off.... She responds by stripping him faster than I can blink. She's even more passionate than I ever saw her. She whispers that she loves him and pushes him onto a couch.... A love making session unlike anything I ever remember is about to begin....
Suddenly I hear my friends shouting.... I notice that I'm lying on the floor.... I had fainted. They lift me up and my blurry vision begins to focus. I look across the club. Mandingo is holding my ex's hand and leading her out of the club and towards the parking lot. She reaches back and squeezes his firm butt....laughing...
She didn't even see me faint.... That's when it hit me: It really is over....
Comments
But what really is a life without passion? without loving so madly, deeply, insanely and risking a broken heart
I also do the hermit routine after a breakup. Right now I'm going through one but luckily I have a night class that leaves me too tired to hanyee. I am SO dreading that moment when I'll see him with another chick.
You know what, I'll probably faint.
And thanks for your comment. It's made my day.