End of a long journey
This is a retrospect. Feels like I owe this virtual diary some account of the longest journey I had so far, an eleven years old road trip. My former partner, E, is a wonderful guy. He is kind and funny and cute and we drifted apart. The beginning was very casual. Met in a club one drunk night on October 1992. I was off my face, he was blond and shiny. I fumbled with words, he just smiled and handed me his phone number on a torn apart McDonald card. The following days we met once, then twice, then just kept going. It was sex, nothing more. Sex and a clear knowledge that no future is possible as his boyfriend will be coming back from abroad in a few days.
The guy came back and we went our separate ways and different cities. A week followed, then another, and a delivery guy with flowers, a CD and a long letter knocked on my door. E has decided to break up with his BF and try us. Me, always a fool to romantic gestures, said yes.
Together we discovered love, together we told our families and came out to friends. We became partners then roommates then family. Eleven years passed. Good years, a civil union, our own apartment (well it is actually owned by the bank but we pay the mortgage), our own car.
And then things cooled down. We went our separate ways, opened our bed to others, developed new tastes and new horizons. The Gotham project (sounds cool eh?) was the final catalyst and last October after a few passionate affairs I realized there is a place somewhere in me that needs new love. E was surprised, a bit hurt, but realistic. We are now friends without the added tension and careful maneuvers required for the maintenance of a deceased love.
The guy came back and we went our separate ways and different cities. A week followed, then another, and a delivery guy with flowers, a CD and a long letter knocked on my door. E has decided to break up with his BF and try us. Me, always a fool to romantic gestures, said yes.
Together we discovered love, together we told our families and came out to friends. We became partners then roommates then family. Eleven years passed. Good years, a civil union, our own apartment (well it is actually owned by the bank but we pay the mortgage), our own car.
And then things cooled down. We went our separate ways, opened our bed to others, developed new tastes and new horizons. The Gotham project (sounds cool eh?) was the final catalyst and last October after a few passionate affairs I realized there is a place somewhere in me that needs new love. E was surprised, a bit hurt, but realistic. We are now friends without the added tension and careful maneuvers required for the maintenance of a deceased love.
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