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35. Red-blooded woman

It’s the day of my meet up with Blue Eyes. It’s been three weeks, which places me firmly into dangerous territory: long enough that you’ve forgotten all your problems, short enough that you still remember what she looks like wearing nothing but bed hair and a smile.

As a grown up, I know that sex with an ex is pretty much always a bad idea: before you know it your heart is trotting happily after your nethers, vigorously waving goodbye to your head. Women have been known to date, move in, get engaged, get married, have kids and finally divorce, all because of a particularly fine vagina they simply couldn’t bear to be parted from. Never underestimate the power of a woman with strong muff game.

Still, I’m not an animal. Despite a strong urge to jabber nonsensically at her cleavage for two hours I know that nothing’s really changed between us. Sleeping together will only make things harder in the long run. It’s with this firm resolve that I start getting ready:

I take a shower

Not sleeping with her

Shave my legs

Not sleeping with her

Blow-dry my hair

Not sleeping with her

Pull on skinny jeans

Not sleeping with her

Meet in the pub

Not sleeping with her

Order a wine

Not sleeping with her

Order another wine

Not sleeping with her

Order a third wine

Not sleeping with her

Tell her I miss her

Not sleeping with her

Get us a cab

Oh for fucks sake.

Two hours later we’re lying in bed together:

“This is so bad,” I say.

“Don’t say that,” she replies sadly, “I love you.”

And that’s when it dawns on me: that whilst I’ve been driven here by my rampant libido, Blue Eyes is here for her love. She wants to patch things up, to kiss it all better: look, there, good as new! I feel sick and shitty. I feel cruel. Because I know that unless something changes, this is never going to work. We argue too much; we hurt each other endlessly. Love should be as easy as breathing or falling asleep.  Our relationship, whilst it’s had its share of soaring highs, has also been…well…bloody hard work to be honest.

For now, I choke down the doubts like medicine, because I can’t bear to hurt her, and I say, honestly:

“I love you too.”

Photo by Jacob Kiesow on Unsplash

This entry was posted in: lesbian

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