Okay, it’s true, the blog is closed and I shouldn’t have written anymore.
But I can’t stay silent about my goodbye to SweetBoobs, which happened just a few hours ago.
There she is, knocking at my door. She’s been waiting a month to meet me, due to my COVID isolation. A month in which she’s done everything to be close to me: calls, messages, she even sent me roses.
There she is with a huge smile, her eyes sweeter than ever… Floating on her signature Louboutins, wearing a very tight skirt, a jacket with a very daring neckline and… nothing underneath. Surprising me as soon as she shows up at the door is her trademark: once she came naked, covered only by a coat, another time in a silk slip. Now here she is with the shocking neckline… Too bad Walter, the “cleaning guy,” is at home. As she quickly covers up, I save her from embarrassment:
“Come on, let’s take a walk while they finish cleaning. Do you want to be the first person I step outside with after a month of isolation?”
Outside, a blinding light dazes me as I enjoy her company.
We laugh, we joke. There’s a connection, as always.
I watch her as she walks. If it were possible to describe the essence of people with a mathematical formula, hers would be a function of elegance and sweetness. I’m not talking about that artificial, contrived elegance that creates distance. No, her elegance is a movement of the soul, it’s part of her essence. It’s the elegance that comes from being naturally graceful.
And she’s so, so sweet. Sweet is the sexy little voice she speaks with, sweet and tangy is the taste of her nipples, sweet is the way she hugs me, as if I were the most important person in the world.
She tells me how her ex is treating her badly.
We grab a takeout coffee, perched in front of the Darsena, and then head back.
Every time I think of her, I realize she’s the perfect girl.
Besides being very beautiful, she’s kind. She genuinely cares about me. She’s completely trusted me, there’s no limit to the experiences we could have together. She’s always been the classic good girl from the suburbs, without any particular flair or emotions, constantly judged by various boyfriends and acquaintances. But with me, she’s open to every experience, with the courage and desire to live of someone newly reborn and determined to savor life in all its facets.
Every time I look at SweetBoobs, I imagine what life together would be like. I savor what we could achieve. She’s the perfect partner in crime.
“Have you heard from Viola?” she asks me. I elegantly dodge the question.
Viola is the girl with the perfect ass with whom we planned to have a threesome, first with the American girl and now with her. No, I won’t be having any threesome this weekend. “Viola just doesn’t have any luck,” I think.
I’m the lucky one. Because a girl like SweetBoobs is like a winning lottery ticket.
We talk, laugh, eat, joke.
And here I am, kicking luck away, for love.
“Come to the couch, I need to tell you something. I feel good with you, I like how you make me feel, the aspects of me that you bring out. But… today, while I was with you, I couldn’t stop thinking about HoneyEyes. I have to admit that I’m in love with her.”
“Okay,” she replies, without batting an eye.
I continue, embarrassed, with her holding my hand almost to console me:
“Our relationship made sense for how things were before. Now that my heart is taken, it doesn’t seem right to you for me to love someone else and see you.
You’ve given me everything a woman can give a man, and for that, I’m grateful. The least I can do is treat you with respect. It doesn’t make sense to keep seeing each other.”
My timid voice crashes against her substantial lack of reaction.
“I actually figured it out.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“Yes, I actually realized it today, while we were together… I saw you were thinking about something else. And I figured it out this week when I read the stories on your blog. It hurt me a lot, but it’s something I’ve accepted. I came to meet you knowing that it was probably the last time you’d want to see me.”
I’m more and more surprised.
I lighten the mood:
“What, you’re not going to make a scene? Not even a tear?
Nothing at all?”
She laughs.
“No, I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”
My respect for her was already at its peak. Now it’s even higher.
What Style.
What Elegance.
What a Woman.
She adds, “I need to figure out what to do with the teddy bear you gave me and the flowers.”
“I get it, I’ll receive anonymous packages with bloody wool ears and severed limbs,” I laugh.
“But do you think HoneyEyes is in love with you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know how it will go. I’ll probably crash into a wall. But I want to be consistent with what I feel.”
Inside, I reflect.
I know I could have continued seeing her.
HoneyEyes leaves me free and SweetBoobs would probably have accepted the situation (she’s a stronger woman than she appears).
But I can’t be with one and think of the other in her presence. And besides, I feel guilty towards HoneyEyes.
This time I feel like I want to be with just one girl.
And my feelings have chosen HoneyEyes, making me reject the perfect girl.
She packs her things and heads to the car. Before leaving, though, she lingers at the bookshelf:
“Where’s my lipstick, the one I used to write my name on my skin for you, the one I gave you and you kept jealously on the humidifier?”
In the chaos of isolation, I didn’t notice the lipstick. It’s true, it’s gone.
“Uh, I don’t know, it must have fallen into the drawers,” I say, not very convincingly.
She laughs, looks at me. I laugh. We laugh.
“I think HoneyEyes made it disappear,” she says.
“No way, I can’t believe it… but if that’s the case, I swear I’ll be pissed!”
I walk her to the door, already knowing the terrible things her friends will say about me.
“Promise me you’ll never let any man treat you badly” I tell her.
One last hug and… SweetBoobs is now out of my life.
A few hours later, she posts a photo on Instagram. She’s stunning, provocative, holding the roses I gave her. The caption reads “Unexpected roses that I’ll keep despite everything“.
What style.
