Before I begin this confession, I hope that all of you will give me a chance to explain my perspective before pinning any judgment on my affairs. Read this post until the end. Trust me, this time skipping ahead won’t do you any good. It doesn’t do me any justice either. Let’s begin my story.
He is what I dream of before I sleep, before I wake. In my dreams, I see him in that café across the street, that froyo shop I like most and even in those lovely restaurants my fiancé brings me to. I go head over heels for him sometimes, when I feel I need a chance or when I feel guilty. For weeks I feel like he knows me; what I like, which part of him that really reels me in and keeps me asking for more. His lips feel buttery against mine, an almost raw taste that keeps our kiss refreshing almost every time we meet. Those cracks and crevices on the surface of his lips helps me savour the moment, as I trace my tongue against them. Sometimes, he forgets to freshen up with a spearmint or two and I secretly enjoy having to know what he last had for lunch. He likes cheese, blue cheese particularly. Occasionally, I know when he’s in the mood for something more fancy from the tiny bits of cranberries stuck between his teeth as we go French.
He fills me not in a way that makes me gag after a heavy lunch. Truth be told, sometimes even when I think I’ve had enough, I keep coming for more. It’s not just how he feeds my needs, my hungers and my desires but how he satisfies me emotionally when I need something so hopeful, motivational and “right” to associate myself with in order to get on with the mundane day. Often, I find myself inviting him over for dinner as he seems to enjoy the shows that I am currently obsessed with. There’s nothing there for a girl like me to deny myself some good company with common grounds and opinions worth exchanging.
I hate it when I see him in the arms of another woman. Their mouths stuck to his like how I like mine on his too. Their tongues lapping out his juices. And their throats, deep enough to have all of him. I’ll just leave this at that. It pains me, it almost burns me at times. I always have this ball in my chest, pushing against me and my will to grab him out of that woman’s hands. When I’m enraged, I imagine myself striking a fork to his torso, and more.
I know my fiancé hates him. He says he’s “allergic” to “people” like him. It’s sad. But, I try. I always make an effort to be honest. Sometimes, I do admit that I enjoy showing him off to my fiancé because matter of fact, he is good for me, for us. I know it’s hard for my fiancé to ever accept him. Frankly, it’s alright. Time will tell it all.
I have to say. This feels wrong. I shouldn’t be having such deep feelings for him. It’s almost like cheating but I checked with my fiancé and he’s perfectly fine with this new relationship I have. I’m glad he’s not a competition. I want to keep them both in my life, now and forever.
Don’t judge me just yet because one day, when you find something beautiful like this you will be in the same position as I am. You want to deny your feelings but you can’t. When the heart mixes with the head, there’s no turning back now. You know he’s good for you and you don’t want to let go of something so precious that makes you feel refreshed and clear-gutted.
What’s done is done. I love this thing I have with him now. My new beau is a healthy addition to my relationship, no doubt.
I guess it’s time to introduce him to the world, before someone else tells it for me.
Everyone, meet Caesar, my lovely egg salad. Caesar, everyone.