Wednesday 19 May 2010

"...all I ever wanted was to fuck her."


Being the ‘other’ women has its advantages; presents, unexpected trips away, dinners, sex. I see them as prizes. The better you are at it, the more extravagant the reward is. Being the ‘other’ women meant disguises, extreme subtlety, nonchalant behaviour and itineraries. It was almost a game. A game consisting of strategy and deceit. A game I thought I could handle.


Our relationship consisted of such subtlety that it was confined in such a volatile place; no one would think to look here. Almost like a scene straight out of a cheap horror movie. The dry untamed grass surrounded its dilapidated structure, complementing its rough amber highlights and silver steel walls. It had been isolated like this for years.


Every bench, dusty tool and jagged edge told its story. Our story. Everything within this place held a memory. Memories of seduction and infatuation. Infidelity and passion. I am still unsure how I feel about these memories.


He never uttered my name. I hardly spoke his too. We were two strangers in a strange place; one of which seemed like an escape from reality. A world where I considered everything that was wrong felt right.  


We were interrupted by a slam on the door. As I covered myself, he ventured outside. His dry, dusty hands grasping at the rusty door handle. Words were exchanged like distant murmurs as I stood there and listened.


“...all I ever wanted was to fuck her.”


I was a fool. The presents meant nothing. Instead, for all my best efforts, I was rewarded with the conciliation prize.



Based on fictional characters and scenario.

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