I don`t think there`s any bread left.
That was the sentence that threw her off the rails. Talking about fucking bread. You don`t talk about bread with someone you are not serious with. He even said he will go to the shop on the way back from work. To her flat, without asking if that was okay if he comes here instead of his, on his own. He has made up his mind to buy bread.
She did not tell him that she has not been getting jobs lately. She would make generalised statements about assignments and replying to emails and was happy that the fact she is at home would not give her unemployment away. She did not even have to pretend she was exhausted. Lying was exhausting anyway. So was not working.
She spent most of her days reading messages she received on her OkCupid profile, never responding to any of them. She would answer the questionnaires as well. They made her feel important. Somebody is interested in whether I am okay with kissing after oral sex, this is exctiting, she thought.
Before things started off with him, she made up her mind this will not be a relationship. She has always been in a relationship since she was 15. She tried to be single but she did not want to not have sex. Her friends did not understand. She did not understand them. She felt like she was the only woman she knew who actually enjoyed sex. Something was off about that.
She told him they are not in a relationship and she is going to see other people too. She never did though. Most men seemed utterly disgusting recently. Something about the way they talked.
Today, however, she is going to meet someone. This cannot go on like this, all this buying bread for each other and shit. She opened the most recent message she got on OkCupid. Are you interested in roleplaying a submissive kitten, a filtered picture of a bare muscly torso asked.
I do, but it won`t be free`
She thought to herself. Instead she typed: A dom asking permission?so ameteur and pedestrain…do your research right, idoit and deleted the App in rage.
She considered to eat a bit chocolate on the second shelf on the cupboard. A fleeting thought soon turned into a full blown hostage negotiation veering towards a cracking existential crisis. She is not 22 any more, the world is suddenly no interested in her as much as she is not interested in it.
Loss chocked her quietly and gently like a serpent of toxic smoke. She looked down her night gown and her belly fat obscured the edge of her toes. She wanted to sob, but no tears threatened. She is digusting.
She stuffed a fistful of chocolate down her throat despite her stomach buldging in protest. Purging was always off limits, so she just grew as her sorrow stewed. Spring came and gone, another year past and her tears are gone. Left behind, an overweight self was the gut of a truck driver.
Sex with him was almost like a punishement to herself any way. Routine sex with someone you forbid yourself or could not make yourself to be emotionally involved with is nothing but a punishment. She couldn’t forgive herself for leaving an unhappy life behind. It at least kept her thin. Thoughts racing through her and she smashed a glass violently next to herself on the kitchen floor and threw away all the snacks and chocolates.
Denial, anger, bargaining and acceptance
Today, she is going to meet someone new. No more bouncing between men she feels ‘meh’ towards. Enough is enough.
