It wasn’t only the rain but also the wind
that kept us from walking faster but we finally made it to my building. We were
completely soaked, dripping water all over the floor. I told him it was better
to go up the stairs rather than taking the elevator. There was a lady that
would have loved me to do something foolish in order to go to my house and do
an hour-long speech about how neighbors should behave. She was a real pain in
the ass but I understood why she was like that: she lived alone with her cats and
rumor has it that she was left in the altar by some guy who vanished. She was
devastated and now behaved like a bitch with everyone.
I opened the door to my apartment and we got
in. Suddenly he grabbed me by the waist and pressed me against himself. We
kissed and in a matter of minutes are wet clothes were on the floor and he had
taken me to the bedroom. His kisses somehow felt better after all that cold in
the street and his body felt warmer, more comforting. We kissed in the nude for
a long time and I understood we were good just like that. We didn’t need to
have sex right then, it was better to hold each other and just kiss, keeping
our bodies warm.
We fell asleep after a few hours and it was me
who woke up first. My bedroom window was covered in vapor and it actually felt
a bit colder than before. Naked as I was, I decided to go to the kitchen and
have something to drink. It was late at night, around 2 AM, but somehow I had
just woken up because of this thirst. I stood by the living room window and
cleaned it with my hand. It was raining fiercely outside, thunder sounds far in
the distance. Just below the window, the street looked like a river, a lot of
water rushing through.
Suddenly I felt his hands on my waist again
but this time he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. I finished my drink and
left the glass on the coffee table. Slowly, he lowered his hands and, next
thing you know, we were having sex right there in my living room. I liked the
feeling of his hands over my body and hearing how his breath had a rhythm that
changed according to what we were doing at the moment. He seemed in control and
I liked that because I wanted it to happen that way. We understood each other,
in and out of bed and I was grateful for that. It wasn’t every day that you
find a guy with whom you feel so at peace with.
After finishing, we went back to bed and slept
in a hug and well covered by the blankets. It was suddenly very cold and,
before I went asleep, I heard the sound of something small hitting the ground.
I realized it was hail just the morning after, went it was all covered in
white, as if snow had fallen. But it was still raining and, according to the
weather guy in the television, people should avoid going out if the could
because of the flooded streets and the risk of streams forming everywhere. The
city was practically built on a hillside so water always ran just past it,
which could increase the damage done by the water.
I decided to let him stay over the day, until
the rain stopped at least. We had breakfast together and I discovered he chew
with his mouth open. It was amazing to discover this because I also realized we
had never had dinner or lunch or anything together. Every time we met was for
sex or most of the time at least. And yeah, the sex was great, but it hit right
there that we didn’t really know each other that well. As he ate his cereal
with his feet on my coffee table, I watched him and realized we had no idea
about the other person. We had been going out for three months now and I didn’t
even exactly knew what he did for a living or what kind of movies he liked or
anything else apart from sex.
Things like movies or art or literature where
great interests to me and I was surprised to see I didn’t know what he liked.
So I turned off the TV, to his obvious displeasure, and asked him to play a
game. Each one would have five questions, one per turn, and we could ask each
other anything right there. After all the questions have been asked and
answered, we could go back to whatever it is we were doing before. He accepted
and we begin. It was a very bad way to begin, as my first question was “Why are
your feet on my coffee table?” He instantly turned red and put his feet down.
Ashamed and a bit confused he looked for his
question. As he thought about it, I looked at his face and realized too that I
had never really stared at him so close before. He didn’t look bad or anything
but for most of the time that we were so close it was because we were having sex
and that's not a moment you use to look at a person’s face. He finally asked me
whom I had dated before him, something we had never discussed. I told him about
this other guy, with whom I had dated for a long time before he left to live in
Australia. He was in real state and I met him when renting my place. We went
out often but never got serious because he already knew he was going to leave
so he didn’t want for things to get weird.
He just nodded to my answer but didn’t say a
word. I could feel he wasn’t feeling very good about my answer but he didn’t
say anything, except for “your turn”. I wanted to ask the same thing but that
would have been boring. So instead I asked him how many relationships he had
had in his life. He took his time to answer, visibly counting every person he
had known. I started to get really annoyed because it was obvious he had slept
with many men and was deciding which ones were “valid” as a relationship and
which ones had just been a one-night stand. I didn’t wait for the answer. I
just said “a lot then?” and he opened his mouth like a fish, not saying a word.
I told him it was his turn but I think I said
it with rage in my voice. His hesitation to answer had made me very angry and I
just stood up and went to the kitchen. It was an open kitchen so I perfectly
heard when he asked me what my favorite food was. I answered instantly that I
love pasta with Bolognese sauce and meatballs. I told him that answering that
fast was easy because I was sure of what I like and what I had done in the past
in order for that to be my favorite food of all.
He asked if I was mad about his answer to the
question I had made him but I answered he had not even answered. As I grabbed
two slices of bread and put them on I plate, I tried to breathe as calmly as I
could but I was already trembling from rage. He said he didn’t answered because
I had gotten all weird just before he was able to say anything, to which I
responded, without missing a beat, that it was unusual for a grown man to need
so much time to count the number of people he had been in a relationship with.
I told him that I was just asking about the boyfriends and not the sexual
partners, so that must be easier for him.
Now it was a look of open hatred, the one he
gave to be as I put ham and cheese on the bread. He said nothing but he turned
around, no longer willing to play any game or answer any questions. We stayed
in silence for several minutes until he said, in a clear voice, that he had
only been the boyfriend of three guys. The first one in school, another in
college and the last one just a year ago, meeting through a mutual friend. Yes,
he confessed he liked sex and had been known to have casual sex with many guys
but that it wasn’t something he did often.
He shut up and resumed eating his cereal,
again chewing with his mouth open. I told him to chew with his mouth closed and
then he erupted, just like a volcano. He told me that I was too controlling,
trying to make everyone do as I said. He reminded me of earlier, when he joined
me in store and I apparently mistreated a worker there because she didn’t
understood what I was looking for. He also said that during sex, I always
wanted everything to be about me and that couldn’t be the case every single
time. He complained that I had never tried to please him and that it was very
exhausting for him.
Obviously, there was no right way to answer
that. He was shaking, no longer eating. He just stood up and went to the
bedroom. I just stayed in the kitchen but I had lost my appetite, if it is that
I had one before. He went out of the bedroom but didn’t talk to me. Instead, he
picked up his clothes from the floor and put them on right there. I said, in a
soft voice, that he could get sick if he wore that. But he didn’t listen or
simply didn’t care about what I had to say anymore. He was very annoyed, that was
obvious, but he didn’t hesitated for a moment. He went for the door and went
out. He slammed the door and left my place.
I looked at the window and realized it was
still raining. Then, the doorbell rang and I opened. It was him, telling me he
had left his wallet somewhere. He looked on the floor and found it beneath the
sofa. But before he left again, I grabbed his arm and hugged him. Who cares if I
didn’t know him that well? I needed him now and I was hoping he needed me back.
