The moto I took today was reckless and fast. I flirted with the driver to get him to give me a lower price, and knew I could get my way by the look on his face. When we peeled off from the curb I immediately knew he was not a cautious driver. We weaved through buses and were always at the head of the pack of other motorcycles when a red light turned green. All the way I dared myself not to hold on and listened to my pulse race in my ears, loving the rush of wind across my face.
A meeting with my boss at a favorite coffee shop in the historic part of town. She helped me plan the next few classes before the end of the school year on December 4th. We had to have the meeting because I had a meltdown on Friday. My co-teacher asked me to randomly teach a lesson and make up an activity on the spot. I froze and panicked. I let the 45 minutes left in class tick by, the students just gossiping and texting on their phones while I sat paralyzed, mentally chastising myself for my lack of creativity, charisma, and mastery of the Spanish language.
I left the school before my next class, cutting it completely. I walked down the stairs and through the halls, through groups of curious students, trying to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling down my face. At home I had to walk past the two elderly women I live with to get to the safety of my room. They both felt the need to remedy my sadness with evangelical prayer and my room was doused in holy water while they prayed loudly to El Señor and Jesus. I managed to move my laptop just before the chair it was sitting on got water all over it, then closed my door as soon as they had left my room even though they were still asking the Lord to rid the evil spirits from my life. I know this was rude, and I should take all the help I can get, but at that moment I was so worked up and hating having to interact in another language so I selfishly shut myself away, stripped my clothes off, and cried in the shower.
That afternoon I left to go to the house of a guy I've been sleeping with for the last three weeks. And if you've been reading previous posts you'll notice this is the second Colombian that I've been sleeping with. I'm still in contact with and sort of dating the first one (F) who is philosophical and compliments me often but is full of himself and bad in bed. The second one (M) smokes a lot of pot, has a car and his own business, compliments me often, and is good in bed but speaks absolutely no English and is very bad at texting me back.
I arrived at M's house to try and fuck away my sadness, and it worked for a little while. That post-orgasm glow just wipes out any feelings besides contentedness and exhaustion. And now here's a little more TMI: He asked very sincerely if he could take a video of me giving him head and I agreed. We watched it afterwards and I couldn't believe how beautiful I looked doing it. Slutty, yes, but also glamorous somehow. My face looks amazing from that angle. He also took a video of us having sex, me on top, and I felt less good about my body. I've lost weight but my body is still soft and round, big bulges of fat on my stomach and legs and arms.
If I wanted to lose more weight, which I do, it really wouldn't be that hard. I just need to cut down on my alcohol consumption (currently I'm drinking a lot, mostly as an escape from the rest of my life which I find all at once perplexing, terrifying, and boring), stop eating so many saltine crackers, and take the opportunities when I eat meals outside my house to eat salads. I think the rest of my diet could pretty much stay the same and I would be losing weight again, especially if I threw in even just a little light exercise.
Being with M is really nice, despite the language barrier. He's sweet and even willing to forgive a fairly large and comical situation that we find ourselves in now. The night I met him we were dancing in a bar and then I went home with him afterwards. The next day we spent the day at the beach together and he looked at some pictures on my phone. A photo of me and F came up and he said he recognized the guy in the picture, "who is this?" he asked me, "I think I know him." I told him his name and M said that, yes, he did know him and he thought he was a bad guy. Later I told M the truth, that I was seeing another guy but didn't mention the name. M was fine with it "I don't care about that as long as you still want to see me again."
Then Friday evening while we were lying in bed, M asked about my novio. I said he wasn't my boyfriend, but yeah there was something going on. "Where does he live?" M asked, and I answered. "What's his name?" M asked, and I refused to answer. "Is it F?" M asked, and I said yes while I covered my face and turned away, coloring with embarrassment. "Do you believe in destiny?" he asked me, and I said I didn't know. I guess I do now, or at least in the idea that my life is sometimes like a romantic comedy. Turns out M and F have been in a similar situation before. A girlfriend of F's (who lived with him for 2 years) broke up with him and then immediately started dating M. It's a small city so they see each other out in bars and around town, enemies in the way Eskimo brothers can be. Now me, the cheating little gringa.
My love life has become a source of escape and entertainment, but when these men become unavailable to me I feel cold and alone and empty. I need friends or alcohol or a movie to be watching, because when it's just me and my thoughts I start to go to dark places. I'm sad. Sitting alone in coffee shops used to be enjoyable, but now it's a type of torture. I sit, trying to entertain myself with a book or browsing on my cell phone, anxiously waiting for my phone to buzz with a message from someone, anyone, so that I won't have to be alone anymore.
I need something my own and productive to give me purpose again. A creative project to drive me and help me find some sense of accomplishment and control over my life. I need to be able to fix this myself, I can't let myself fall apart again.
No comments:
Post a Comment