Saturday night. I’ve been stuck at home for a week. Deliveroo bags emerge from the mess scattered all over the loft, archaeological relics testifying to last week’s meals. The top layer, and therefore the most recent, consists of medicine packages. Yep, I caught COVID-19.
I had considered the risk. At the start of the pandemic, many people gave up any socializing and limited themselves to the bare minimum of professional interactions. I decided to do the opposite: no office, no grocery shopping, no public transport, nothing at all except… women. I would continue with my romantic encounters with girls I met on Tinder or Seeking.
“If I have to die of something, let it be love, sex, screwing, living… not while I’m going to work or grocery shopping,” I thought.
Some of you might say “Serves you right!”.
But no, because I know for sure where I caught Covid… at the office, on the one day I went there for a business lunch!
Luckily, I currently have almost no symptoms. Fingers crossed.
Thanks to the lockdown, I finally have time to update you on the Unnamed Woman.
It’s been a very intense month full of plot twists.
As I told you here, at our last meeting the Unnamed Woman showed up a full 7 hours late… but totally irresistible. A unique connection formed between us, leading to an incredibly powerful experience. It was a strange evening, full of conflicting emotions: on one hand, I felt pure love, like rarely before; on the other, anger for the lack of respect shown. We had sex like never before, with an understanding never felt before, until 5 in the morning. Her pussy has this magical power to erase every argument, or almost. I hope the intensity we’ve reached will finally lead her to stop pulling away when she receives love and to behave with the minimum respect I expect from anyone.
I invite her to dinner again after two days. She arrives an hour and a half late. I get pissed, we argue. Then we make up. The sex is terrible. We go to bed.
During the night, unease grows.
She sleeps next to me. She hugs the pillow tenderly, as if trying to convey all the affection in the world.
I think to myself.
“Paolo, how long are you going to fool yourself?”
“Oh God, who is it?”
“It’s Yogi Tsuru…”
“The guru dick! But it’s the first time you speak!”
“This time I can’t stay silent anymore. I’ll ask again: how much longer do you want to let yourself be played? She texts you, then disappears. She doesn’t respect a single time commitment. The other night she was 7 hours late! And you?
You didn’t bat an eye. You’ve told people to fuck off for much less.”
“Tsuru, you know, she’s not ready to fall in love. Every time I give her love, she pulls away. I didn’t get mad because I understand it’s her defense strategy, she just needs time, she’s not ready to let go completely.”
“Needing time is the greatest illusion.
She’s not in love, she never will be.
When we have sex, she’s thrilled if you call her a slut and a cum dump, but… as soon as you call her ‘love’, she tenses up! Try calling SweetTits love and see the opposite reaction you’ll get.”
True. But…
“…But I have such great sex with her, I might keep her just for that. Who said you have to fall in love?”
“Sure. You could. But there’s a fundamental requirement: respect. You know she sleeps with others.”
“Well, I sleep with others too and you, not only know it well but… you’re complicit! After all, you’re the one who gets in or gets sucked, dear dick. I’m just your carrier.”
“We have sex, but… we say it. We don’t bullshit. We don’t lie. And above all, we don’t disrespect her time. Damn, you call yourself MagniFico and allow a girl to be 7 — seven! — hours late? And tonight too, she arrived an hour and a half after the scheduled time… It’s too much.”
I know my Dick is right, but I want proof. The Unnamed One sleeps to my right, blissfully, with her face that’s part sex goddess and part little angel. I pull my hand away from her butt and… grab her phone.
I had glimpsed her code.
“Yogi, I have an idea. I’ll check her phone”.
“Huge mistake!
1. It’s disrespectful.
2. Whatever you find, you can’t complain to her about it.
3. Sometimes things seem more serious and different when written in chat”.
“You be the Dick and focus on sex, this is my business.”
I unlock the phone.
I search for my name in conversations with her friends.
I read a chat from a few days ago, with a guy she calls “love”…
She lists the people she’s seeing simultaneously. There’s me and… three other guys.
She says we’re all losing our minds over her.
Her friend gives her advice I’d rather not repeat, but it annoys me.
But the best part is discovering that when she was 7 hours late… she was with someone else!
“Yogi, you were right…”
He doesn’t respond. Apparently, he has nothing more to say.
I figured she was fooling around and lying to me about this (and whatever). But the 7-hour delay with the bullshit excuse (“I fell asleep!”) on Saturday was unacceptable. And the night before, when she was late again (albeit “only” 2 hours), I confronted her head-on and she even tried to claim she was right.
Everything’s fine, but there’s no basis of respect and sincerity to deal with me, let alone for me to let myself go into a relationship.
The strange thing is… I’m super calm.
I’m not angry.
In a way, I even feel liberated.
Maybe the truth is I’m not ready to fully commit. I like her a lot, but… I don’t feel I can trust her. And, probably, I don’t feel I can trust myself.
This relationship has no future.
Tomorrow I’ll tell her to fuck off.
I sleep, finally at peace, for a couple of hours.
She wakes up.
Of course, I can’t tell her I peeked at her phone. I pretend nothing happened.
I try to have sex with her one last time, but… Yogi Tsuru isn’t interested.
She’s in a hurry, she has to go to work.
She’s acting strange, as if she figured something out.
I kiss her at the door.
She keeps texting me as she heads to work.
I can’t take it anymore.
I send her a voice message saying I couldn’t sleep thinking about her constant disrespect for time, the fact that I’m sure she’s sleeping with others and that I always see her online on the dating site where we met.
In short, I thank her for the time we spent together and say goodbye forever, saying that there’s no basis to continue seeing each other.
She replies like this:
I had hoped for a sincere message.
Of course, I don’t respond.
And that’s that.
That’s how the great story with the Unnamed Woman ends.
Um…
More or less…
Let’s say…
Okay, a week later I contact her again and… everything changes!
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