Day 0: An uneventful day for me. My Blackberry is turned off to conserve battery.
Day 1: I receive his message at a farmer's market. I read it twice before I can believe it. An odd sense of relief (I had been dreading this moment for so long), and yet a feeling of disconnect from reality. Am I in shock?
Day 2: Blind panic. Will he make good on his threats? I run up a €200 phone bill asking friends, family and online admirers for advice. My friends foolishly suggest asking him for help! Just goes to show how willing we girls are to believe in love, and loyalty, and the basic goodness of people.
Day 3: I have always been good at games, no matter how much I hate them. He falls for my bluff and folds his hand. It is a Pyrrhic victory. I have already begun to re-read our chat logs. Though now he is an enemy, I miss him as a friend.
Day 4: I console myself with the absurd fantasy that one day, not now but maybe twenty years from now, he might return to me. Or have forgotten me sufficiently to seduce me all over again.
Day 5: I awaken from dreams of having him as a friend. But I have realised the foolishness of hoping. He was out of my league from the beginning. I should be grateful for two years of overwhelming joy. It was more than any human being deserves. I abandon the 20 Year Plan.
Day 6: I am over the worst of it, I think. It's the oldest story in the book. I loved him, he didn't love me. But I never asked or expected his love. All I wanted was for him to be happy, fucking lots of girls, and to remember me fondly. I think the first is well underway. And that does make me happy - jealous but happy. The second, for some reason, has been denied me, though I think I did everything within my power to merit it. But oh, well. Some you win... and Dim Sum, you lose.
Oh, wait. There was one other thing. I did ask him to always keep me in mind as a potential threesome partner if ever one of his future girlfriends is interested and they can't find anyone else. Here's how I imagine that conversation might go...
Him: sometimes I think I would like to fuck you with another girl
(Of course this would most likely all be in French but I can't be bothered to translate and also would find it harder to project as he never spoke to me in French, though I did ask him to... his French was so cute. And sexy. Anyway, back to the conversation.)
Him: sometimes I think I would like to fuck you with another girl
Her: oh really like who
Him: ...one of your friends
Her: haha i dont think so :S
Him: >:)
Her: dont you know anyone
Him: well there was someone but it's too risky... wife knows everything about her
Or maybe... "well there was someone but she fell in love with me so I had to get rid of her B-)".
But really he'd probably just say "no".
God I was crazy about that guy. It's probably a good thing he broke up with me because I would never have been able to end it with him. It's just the way he did it that was so bizarre. First of all, he broke up with me by text message. Yes, really. And right after I'd found out that my mother has cancer. It's almost a cliche of boorishness, is it not? Secondly, it was all "I never want to see you again" and "never contact me again". Like some peevish schoolgirl. When a simple "hey babe, let's call it quits" would have sufficed! And then, if all that weren't bad enough, there were the threats to hunt me down and ruin my life. That was a bit gratuitous, really. When all I ever did was every fucking thing he ever asked me to!
But there it is. He was a fun-loving guy. I was born to cry. :)
Day 7: The anniversary of the day I first felt his cock enter my pussy. Though I am resigned to it being over - I have only to look in the mirror to wonder what he ever saw in me at all - I wish I could have known this was coming, could have seen him one last time. Not now, of course, now that he hates me, but if I could travel back into the past, and see him look at me once more with love!
Day 8: Perhaps I shall just have another baby, and name it after him.
Day 9: I return home to find that if there is a weight loss method more effective than having a mother with cancer, it's having a mother with cancer and being abandoned and betrayed by a vindictive and vengeful ex-lover. But other than that, I am fine. If I had one wish it would be to remember everything. Speak, Mnemosyne!
Day 10: I knew this would be a sad day for me - the first day back home that I could have seen him, if he'd wanted to. And to think that I'd probably have been grumpy about having to get up early, or feeling guilty about neglecting the baby. And now I shall never see him again! I guess that's the strangest thing - though I've been broken-hearted in the past, it was never like this, this total cut-off. I know I should just be grateful for all the good times we had together, which could easily never have happened. He did so many nice things with, for and to me. Reason dictates I shall surely get over him some day. But when? They say it takes 100 days to break a bad habit. But surely it ought to be a function of how long one had the habit to begin with. Maybe 10%? 75 days? I decide to watch the wedding flash, over breakfast...
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