lunes, 19 de octubre de 2009

Black Knitted Shawl Lapel Cardigan Part 2

Well. Hi readers. The two of you. Since I'm back in DF I have very little time to write. Sorry about that. And besides, the last post I wanted to write ended up being something I didn't see fit for this blog. You know how I feel about the things I put here. Only the mere mediocre stuff makes it. I wouldn't want to fight blogspot over copyright.
It is now October 18th, or 19th, and major things have happened in my life. I'm a few steps closer of being a plastic surgeon. My life long dream. I am, for the first time, living on my own. And I'm finally getting over the only guy I've felt something real for in years.
I met him in April, while still studying at UNAM. His name is Phillip. He's fortysomething, filled with lust for life, fit, and quite ugly except for his pristine eyes. When we met I was going through a week long alcohol binge triggered by the visit of my best friend Ivan. A whole week of partying the way only Ivan knows how. That friday night we went to Morocco. If you know what kitsch means then you know the kind of place. When we met he seemed too eager to please, "naco", balding, and terribly dressed. Both of our entourages went through a series of bars even worse than the first until dawn, when the remaining crew made it to Philip's apartment.
When we got there I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A huge loft in a building surrounded by the most beautiful palaces of downtown DF. He started moving up on my ranking, but still not close enough to make me tingle. At some point on that alcoholic morning Phillip was kissing me. The spark was incandescent. A chemistry I didn't know until then was unfolding and from that moment on we could not be separated.
Next day came and we all had to move on. Phillip had prior engagements. Ivan and I had an invitation to another party. I looked really hard all over the apartment, but I couldn't find the Black Knitted shawl lapel cardigan I was wearing that night. The second one, since #1 was M.I.A. So I knew I would see Phillip again. A fashionista is to his clothes like god to his sons, he never rests until they're all safe and sound.
A week or so went by and on a cool saturday afternoon I decided it was time to get my BKSLC back, so I called Phillip. The maid had found it. When I arrived he seemed even uglier than I remembered. Blame it on the alcohol. But the real surprise was that he was having a party with friends and family. "¡Wow this guy moves fast!" I thought. Two hundred miles an hour exactly, since he invited me to stay and was all over me that night. I went along for the sake of causing shock or at least a scandal but I got a massive dose of that ugly-sexy chemistry again.
We ended up having the hottest sex ever. Even if he's practically a mexican macho in bed, or maybe because of it. The morning after came and along the obliged heart to heart conversations. He had recently had his heart broken by a gorgeous guy who just used him to his convenience (you know, money, laundry, a place to stay ocassionally) and now he was moving on. He couldn't believe how blind he had been. I shared with him my most painful story, about my Tommy Gnosis, and the "how to keep energy leeches away" chapter of my book. It seemed like the world had revealed to him. To hear such wisdom from his twenty-years-less lover.
The affair started growing everywhere. I met more of his friends. We'd go out on weekends. Massive public displays of affection and long walks around his neighborhood. And an intimacy that was growing on me. You might even call it love. I didn't tear down all my walls though. I was due to go back to that shady city in the north front of mexico. I let him know that two weeks before day zero. Those weeks we spent every moment together, which made saying goodbye all the hardest. I couldn't stop crying. And even though he appeared sad, I didn't feel his sadness.
We tried to stay in touch that summer and succeeded for the first month. But the second one all communications weaned. Even on facebook he seemed elusive. Aside from the symptoms and questions about the treatment for a bad sinusitis he was having, he would hardly say anything about himself. Much less about us. My analytic mind started seeing signs of trouble, and a contingency plan based on his responses emerged. The last time we chatted on facebook was two days before I arrived again to DF, so I acted as if our affair would resume, telling him the hottest things I could think of. Only then he found the nerve to tell me he had been with someone for about a month. He was swept away from the beginning and totally in love.
Of course I acted cool!! How could I care for such an ugly asshole!! And to make matters worse he didn't even apologize, told me I'd find a hook up real soon. No, not a boyfriend, A - HOOK - UP!. Bottom line: I would never see him again. Wether for self respect and emergency preservation of dignity or because of his boyfriend's restrictions I'm not exactly sure.
To tie loose ends I have kept looking at his facebook page ocasionally. Turns out the boyfriend is the guy who had previously broke his heart. Even ugly guys know that a jealousy trap is the best way to get back someone who left you. The thing that hurts the most? recalling his last words: "Thank you, you cured me, in every possible way".

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