The light in their bedroom window was on all night. I just sat watching them, they seemed so in love, and I was jealous, I wanted to be just like them. But I was sitting in the apartment across the street, alone, as always. I would once in a while join an Internet dating site, in the hopes of a man or a woman to contact me and ask for a date. It never happened.I went out to the bars, wearind something nice, hoping for someone to ask for a date, it never happened. I followed tips from Glamour and Elle, on how to get a date, it never happened.
I guess I was not the average woman, not the woman that anyone would just approach and ask for a date, I was the type of woman that drunk men at bars would asked to fuck, but in a more sincere and in a slightly more polite way. I did not look like any of the plastic blondes in Playboy or Hustler; I just had this air of sex around me, maybe because I so seldom submitted myself to the activity. It mostly bores me, the act of pretended love and worlds of lies and untrue feelings.
I watched this couple, how their love was so genuine and still so raw, it surprised me, since I long ago had given up on love. I sat and drank expensive wine and watched their hands found each other, and how their bodies melted together. I saw how they lay face-to-face, just talking hours and hours away, while I was just getting more intoxicated. I sometimes thought that I would be better off if I left my apartment for other things than grocery, work and the gym, but I did not want to miss my nights with them.
The couple slowly became an obsession, the nights when only the man slept there, I was greatly disappointed and I would slip myself a sleeping pill or two, otherwise my mind would continue to ask, why, why, why the woman was not there. Even if I very well knew that the man was the owner of the small studio and she probably had another place she called a home.
It made me more and more depressed when I noticed how their loving glances became fewer, and how their love seemed to change. I watched how they turned away from each other in their sleep, I noticed how they no longer stayed up all night just to talk, and how she never gave him coffee in bed anymore. I noticed how they no longer came home late nights to drunkingly undress each other and I noticed how she no longer smiled in her sleep.
And one day it came, what had I feared. I saw, how their eyes were filled with boredom, but also with tears, how the end was near. Her eyes with anger and slight regret, I saw how her mouth opened and shouted, I saw his tense back, how he pointed towards the door, or where I thought the door must be. She threw something at him, something small and glimmering, turned her back and walked out of my life. For many nights I sat and stared at him sleeping, lonely, hugging his pillow, I hoped that she would come back, but she never did.
(Art by Nathalia Edenmont)
bra!
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