LONG-DISTANCE ROMANCE II

He went back home quite disappointed. He looked for his passport and it was exactly where he had remebered he had left it. He went back in his own car to the airport to buy his new ticket. It didn't cost a lot of money. It was only a small difference. Everything was ready for the next day. He was leaving at the same hour and he would arrive at the same hour to the other side of the ocean.

On the other side of the ocean she got the text explaining what had happened. She was just beginning to get ready, but all of a sudden she felt sad, like that time when he had told her he was coming in August and then cancelled because he had changed jobs. She understood, but it broke her heart. All the expectation had accumulated and it was difficult to just push it away. Today it was the same. Well, it was just a day, it was settled, a matter of hours. Now that she thought about it, it was crazy. She was going to admitt a perfect stranger into her flat. What if he was a murderer? What if he was weird? What if he was her prince and she was a frog? She caught her reflection in the mirror next to the door. She was not that young anymore, she knew the cam softened her features, but in broad daylight each of her wrinkles could be seen, she was 42 and did not look her age, she looked younger, but... she was not. She took a book and started reading until it got her dizzy, then she went to bed and watched TV for a while, reruns were boring when they were about solving mysteries. She turned it off, she cried a little, she didn't know if out of sadness or excitemenet or both. Tomorrow she wouldn't sleep alone.

Next day she was twice as nervous, what if the flight was again delayed? But no, there were no texts cancelling. She went through her daily routine and then she went to market to buy fresh food to cook. She went back home and put everything in place. She had a shower, she took her time getting ready and she waited patiently for Mau to arrive. He had offered himself to take her to the airport and then either disappear or take them home. He was such a sweetheart.

He came just in time. The traffic was not heavy. They arrived in good time to the airport. Mau and Clau looked at each other, remembering another encounter they have both shared and that now was part of the past. They smiled and blinked sadly for a second, now it was a different occasion. Mau told Clau he was going to walk around while she waited for him. Suddenly they announced the arrival of his flight. She was very excited. She ran to the reception gate. She was expectant. Already in her highest heels, she was still trying to tiptoe and jump to see above the bunch of people. No need to jump, he was really huge, he outstood above the rest, in his dark jacket she had so many times seen on screen, his eyes looking here and there until they fixed on hers and his smile appeared. Yes!!!! He was just as she had imagined --sweet, smiley and kind.

Was she whom he expected?

Suddenly he saw her, among the people, jumping up and down, in her red coat, the colour that suited her best. She was smiling, that smile that kindled him from the inside. She was just as he had imagined her, tiny, cute, dinky, so beautiful and sexy.

They ran to each other and suddenly she tripped, but he ran to catch her and she landed on his arms. She stared at his blue-rimmed hazel eyes and they were sparkling, he was drinking her with them. He hugged her so tightly she couldn't breath so when she tried to catch breath it was like a sigh. He loosened a bit and looked at her, she stroked him and he stroked her smooth face, he started kissing her shyly, almost asking for permission, she smiled and kissed back. After a while, someone coughed with his baggage on a trolley and asked them, "Shall we head home or would you rather have something for dinner? I'm Mauricio."

"Mau? I have heard a lot about you. Glad to meet you, mate. Mmm, home?"

"Home, it is. Thanks Mau." replied Clau.

LONG-DISTANCE ROMANCE I

They had been cyber-dating for more than a year now. He had finally saved more than enough money to finally meet her in the flesh in her own country. He had arranged everything for his holidays to be spent there. He had interviewed several nannies to take care of his children, but had finally decided that they would be perfectly taken care of by his parents and occasional visits from their mother from whom he had finally divorced in April.

He had gone to take the photograph for his passport, days before the appointment at the government office in charge. He hadn't had his hair cut too recently, so he didn't look like a soldier, his hair length was just perfect and he looked smashing. He had decided to shave off the moustache, after all he had let it grow because of a former girlfriend who never came back, it was time to let that go.

He had bought the round airplane ticket after an exhaustive search and comparison between different airlines, asking for dates, hours, stops, requirements...whatever. He was not a planner, so this behaviour was quite unusual. He was very excited. He made a list in his mind of the clothes he needed. Clean shirts, socks, underwear (maybe he needed to buy some new items), a pair of trousers, comfortable shoes (she had threatened him with walking all day long), should he buy a pijama? He slept stark naked, well not completely, but...he fell asleep.

Next day he checked his suitcase. It had been years since the last time he used it. It was dusty, rusty and plain old. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he saw the same, he felt dusty, rusty and plain old. He knew the camera was kind with his features. His nose was too big, he had too many wrinkles, at 46 he looked older. Would she take him? Was he whom she expected? Mmm, if the camera was so nice with him, how nice would it be with her? What if all this money spent in the trip was not worth it? What if she wasn't as gorgeous? Was this trip a good idea? My! What was he thinking? He must be crazy. He was terrified. But he had this power of turning doubts and bad expriences into happy moods just by purpose.

Next day he felt fine. He had a last check at everything. Suitcase dusted and polished with clothes neatly packed by his daughter. Passport... the phone rang, his mother wishing him good luck and asking him to be careful with the swine flu... airplane ticket... his son rushed in with something about Jac Jac. Apparently the dog had a stick stuck in his throat. He took it out and sighed, would they be ok when he got back? It was the first time he would leave them alone. Ok, the taxi was here to pick him. No need to bother his brothers, they had things to do. He kissed the kids good-bye and set for the airport.

There was a traffic jam. Apparently because of the weather, it was so nice that everyone was headed for the lake. Once they passed the lake, it would surely be faster. And so it was. Soon, they were in the airport. He had arrived two hours before to check in his suitcase. That was the requirement for transatlantic flights. He waited in the queue until his turn came. In the meantime he was observing people. He liked airports. All the people arriving and leaving. All of them hugging for one reason or another. Many people crying, happily some, sadly others. Many people rushing to meet each other, to finally clash in a kiss. That was the plan, she would be waiting for him and they would rush to each other's arms...

"Sir? Can I see your ticket, please?" called a young female voice.

"Sure," he said, woken from his daydream. He started searching in the pockets of his overcoat. He searched in the small bag he was carrying with him with stuff he might need in flight. The ticket was nowhere to be found.

"Please, stay aside while I ask for the rest of the passengers." the clerk said.

"Sure, of course," he said quite embarassed.

He suddenly remembered he had put the plane ticket in... an envelope that stayed in the kitchen when Will had asked for help with Jac Jac!!!! He explained this to the clerk and she said, "No problem sir, the ticket for today was lost, you'll have to pay a difference so the airline can give you another for tomorrow, I just need to see your passport."

In that moment the voice of his mother echoed, he had forgotten the passport on the phone table.

How could he explain his sweetheart that he wouldn't arrive today because he forgot his passport and he lost his plane ticket?

A DAY IN HER LIFE

Almost everyday she opened her eyes around 7.45 and got up to feed the cats, then she would go back to sleep for another couple of hours. At 9.30 she was up. She put water to boil for her tea and then she would read a chapter from whichever book she was reading. She would finish chapter and tea and start exercising. She would take a shower and then start her computer while she cooked herself something for breakfast --usually some fruit, bread, eggs and cranberry juice, more tea and water, plenty of water. After having checked her mail shortly, she would connect to chat with her long-distance boyfriend. He was nice, handsome, with a beautiful and warming smile and a special sparkle in his eyes. They would chat for about an hour. Then she would check thoroughly her mail, she would write some entries in her blog, in her diary and study some stuff she was interested in.

Around noon she would take her notebooks, books and folders and she would leave to teach all around the city, wherever students needed her. She didn't have a car of her own, so she walked to the subway station, a fifteen minute walk from home. There she would change lines to take the one that took her to a bus which left her on the middle of the highway to a nearby town. There, under a bridge, she made her stop. She walked for ten minutes to the suburb where three of her students lived. There she stayed for two hours. It was usually dark and cold when she came out. She walked to the nearest bus stop and there she took one to the subway station nearest the outskirts of the city. Thanks to her good luck she had only once travelled standing in more than a year she had been teaching there. She would read on her way home, trying to make some notes. Once in the city she would take the subway to the station nearest her home. She would change lines in the first station. She would go downstairs, then walk where her line was and then she would go upstairs, two times. She would take the train and read again while she got to her station where she would step off. She would climb the stairs and then go past the ticket teller, climb other stairs and come out next to the lady who sold boiled corn. She would go past the church, cross the street, walk past the park, watching the moon and the skaters there, and then cross the street to the site where they were building a new flat building that never seemed to be finished. She went past the ice cream shop and the vegetable shop, the gas shop where once she fell down and nobody helped her, and then she crossed again. She walked past the cleaner's, the stationary, the key makers, until the bakery where she sniffed at the recently baked bread and watched at all its varities through the window, next to where another old lady was selling boiled corn (why is it that apparently all corn vendors are old ladies?). She crossed the street where the beautician's was already closing, she walked past several new and old flat buildings, past the grocer's, her friends' stationery and finally her flat building. She took the keys from her bag, she opened the general entrance and climbed the set of ten stairs up to her flat, on top of all of them.

She opened her door and the cats came meowing with news from the day, she stroke them. She wasn't tired, so she didn't go to bed. Instead she threw herself in her favourite arm chair, she opened her book to take some more notes and she fell fast asleep.

RED OR WHITE

He didn't bring a bottle of wine. He brought two. When I opened the door, there he was, showing me two half a litre bottles of wine, one red and one white. He simply told me, "I wasn't sure which one you would prefer." I was moved. He didn't have to bring anything, and he had brought not only one, but two bottles of wine. I decided to open the Cabernet Sauvignon. It was good. But improved by his company. When he was kind he could be really agreeable.

That day I was devastated. I had found out that a work mate, with whom I've had an affaire, to call it something, was leaving the place where we both worked. I had sort of developed a crush on him and was crying when he phoned me with any pretext --to ask me if I wanted to work at his friend's Elementary School. I had already told him I was not interested in elementary schools and that I had other plans. He noticed my voice and he asked in a rather worried one what was wrong. I could not tell him the truth so openly, so I told him I had just lost someone. He asked me whether my daughter was ok (why do people always assume that when something's wrong with me it is because of my daughter?). I told him nothing was wrong with her. He decided he should be with me to comfort me. I was rather taken aback, but I accepted.

Of course I didn't stay with my pjs on and the ruined face after having cried. Besides, I had no more reason to be sad. I was kind of crazy in those days. I really didn't know what or who I wanted. I got all excited and had my clothes changed, dabbed on a little make up and had a brush at my hair, I didn't want to seem over made, but neither too undone.

Apparently it worked. In spite of me tranquility he inisted, "You still seem a bit stressed, want me to relax you?" Once again we ended up in my bedroom. This time he didn't stay all night, but we enjoyed our moment.

Once he said, "We over forties are kind of cynical, aren't we?"

"I don't know," I answered, "I've never been with anyone my age."

This relationship is hardly a relationship, we only meet to chat, argue about literature, language, life, former spouses and bringing daughters, then we have wild sex and that's it. We never know when we will meet each other again. I never know if coffee, wine or Gatorade will be involved.

HOLIDAY

It didn't rain a lot during our holiday. However, we made the most of it. Whenever it rained we would get all over excited, shut the windows and watch the rain smearing down the window pane while we started undressing with a sort of teenage fever. Soon the windows would be all steamy. Our moaning and panting would excite us even more. His big hands would run over my back, trying to memorize every curve, slope and valley of my geography. He would kiss me with his eyes, not only with his lips and mouth. He drank me wholly with those blue-rimmed hazel irises. He wanted to etch me so when he went back I would still be there whenever he closed his eyes. I would try and memorize his smell, his feeling, his prickly skin, his tautness, his softness, his gutural voice, his taste, so when he left I would still have him in my bed.

Other days we would go walking holding hands to the park. There we would pick a bench, sit on it and make plans for our very remote future. We would buy bread crumbs for the ducks and feed them until fed up. We would buy ice cream and devour it. We might end up in a cinema theatre or in the supermarket, buying something for dinner. We would cook, serve, eat, wash and then go to bed. Going to bed was a marvelous experience. I would talk and talk until he could no longer pay any more attention. Then I would watch him sleep, on his side and roll back and forth. I could barely sleep, giving no credit to the bliss I was living at the moment. When I woke up he was usually watching me, the house already smelling of coffee and he by my side, perfectly naked, ready to take advantage of the shining hours.

Sometimes it would rain. But no, it didn't rain a lot during our holiday.

AN AROMATIC CUP OF COFFEE

Tomorrow was her birthday. It was Wednesday, her busiest day, she was up from early morning and didn't arrive home until late at night, well, after the 21.00hrs. There was simply no time to meet and spend a moment together. By the time he would wake up, she would have gone and by the time she would arrive he would still be at work. Good they knew each other so well. He knew she didn't care much for big celebrations, but that details were extremely important for her. He knew what he would do. He would have dinner ready for her , so that way, when she came back, something made entirely by himself would be waiting. He slept soundly after that.
Next day, when he woke up only her scent was left in her pillow, he hugged it trying to absorb the last of it. He got his sneakers and got dressed for a short jog. On his way back home he went to her favourite coffee shop to buy a quarter of freshly ground grain. They had ran out of her favourite variety. Mmm, it was still good time to look somewhere else. There was another coffee shop not so far. He went home and picked the car. He aimed to the other coffee shop. Not open... yet. He had to wait half an hour, he saw his watch. No problem, he could read something in the meantime and advance with his research. Problem was, he hadn't got a pencil with him. He asked for a stationery and got one. When he got back the coffee shop had opened. They didn't work that kind of grain there, but they knew a place on a nearby neighbourhood that did. He decided to go home and take his shower, and on the way to the office he would pick up the coffee. It was late now. No time for breakfast. Never mind, he would grab a bite somewehere, an OXXO, a Seven Eleven, anywhere.
On the way to the office he spotted the coffee shop. Finally they had the grain she loved. Great! They even packed it in a cool aluminium can so he could refrigerate it and not damage its delicate perfume. He arrived to the office and put the can in the fridge. He went straight to his place and his secretary gave him his messages and his schedule for the day. She was a good lady, like a mother, always there to help him through. She had even brought him a sandwich. He had forgotten to buy his own breakfast.
At noon, he decided to go downstairs to the small bistro and have a soup and a sandwich with some salad. The sandwich was so good he asked if they made to take out and they did. He took it home and placed it on a special occassion plate with a nice napkin and he decided to set the coffee machine to prepare the coffee. Their coffe machine was very special. It was programmable. You put the ingredients --water and the coffee-- and then it had a clock which started warming the water and filtering the coffee at the time you wanted, even if you weren't there. This was a tricky task. Mmm, what time would be a good time? Her time was around 21.00, but she was never there on time, so he would set it at 21.10 to give it ten minutes to cool, she didn't like hot stuff, just warm enough. She didn't like it too strong, neither too weak. He knew how many teaspoons were correct. He took out her favourite cup, the one painted with cats all around, sure she would enjoy her cup of coffee. But as soon as he took the coffee to add it to the machine he realized there were no more coffee filters. Gosh! What was wrong today?
He ran to the supermarket and there he found them, neatly packed. He had a few minutes before going back to the office. A woman with what seemed constantly sprouting children was before him. The baby was crying, a toddler glared at him, the twins were struggling over a robot, another was on all fours crawling and bawling like the baby and tugging at his mom's skirt, the poor woman was on the brink of a nervous attack when the cashier told her she was missing fifty cents. The poor woman couldn't hold the bay and the purse any longer, he was so desperate he paid the woman's bill, he helped pushing the cart and then with the bags to her car. He gave the children such a stern look, they all crawled into the car in perfect silence and the mother couldn't thank him enough. He just wanted to leave to make the coffee.
He was exhausted. He turned on the radio and a soft jazz came in. It soothed him. He ran upstairs and prepared the coffee. One teaspoon and a half. A cup of water and a bit more. Set the clock at 21.10 and go. He was at peace.
When he came back at night, he found the plate empty, the coffe jug full and a note with her perfume and her handwriting saying, "Thanks honey. I didn't drink the coffe, but I ate the sandwich." She had had too much cake AND coffee at her own office.

LYDIA

My aunt gave me a birthday present. It wasn't even my birthday, but she does that, she gives presents when she sees you, not on the date, because most probably she won't be there on the exact date, but she always thinks of you whenever she sees the ideal present. She is not tall, rather short and fatter than thinner. She used to have a very nice figure, always fashionable my aunt. After her first divorce she was still young and glamourous. She would hang out with my cousin, twenty years younger than her, and his friends, many of who fell deeply in love with her. She didn't have a dull personality as her sisters did. She was charismatic, beautiful, wordly, she had read, and travelled, she was so beyond what many twenty year old girls were, that in comparison these boys were dazzled by her joy de vivre. But she was forced out of her sister's house by the husband, a typical hypocrite who disapproved of her "scandalous" conduct.

She had to find a job. And she did, quite successfully. She started out as a sales agent at a handcraft store and soon she had it under her charge. She was even commissioned to open a new store at Cancún, where the new frontiers were being opened. And there she went, all alone, by herself, to seek adventures and a completely new life.

And did she found one! She opened the new store and she made it flourish. She also dealt with the artisans directly and found out about many injustices. She decided to open up her own store, she already knew what was needed. She was again, successfull, she knew the ropes of the trade. And then it was love's turn to knock at her door. It came in the body of a 30 year old, when she was already 50. He was perfectly shaped, educated, cultivated, innocent and fresh in the artistic and commercial environment. They made a perfect couple. That is, until 11 years later, after living together, when she found out evidence of his sexual preferences, he was gay and it broke her heart. She sold store, flat, car and came back to the place she had ran away more than 20 years ago. Now she has a pristine and dinky house in a nice and clean neighbourhood in Metepec, away from her sisters, and not from a nephew who comes and visits her often. She is alone with her dog, her memories, her pieces of art and her photographs.

Now she wears typical Mexican clothes, always beautifully embroidered and in the best fabrics, she wears according turqoise and silver jewelry and she loves buying presents for the people she loves. I'm lucky, she loves me. We are fond of each other.

WHY?

I didn't know the answer. Which teacher knows all the answers? I know we would love to, but we don't. Sometimes kids ask things because they are curious, sometimes to test us, sometimes because they really want to learn further and then we don't know. The most difficult question is usually posed by our own children, when still very young, the eternal and ever sprouting "Why?" And that is the same question I keep asking myself about life in general: "Why?" Why did he leave me? Why do I still care? Why do these things happen to me? Why can't I forgive? Why has life developed as it has? And yet, sometimes I think life is too good and wouldn't change a thing of its deviations, sometimes I am so sorry how it has developed, I feel that I have lost so much time, but then again I'm not sure. Back when I was twenty I wanted to be a writer and came to the conclusion I had nothing to write about, so I devoted myself into reading some other writer's experiences and way with words. Now I have the experiences and here I am, complaining because I had them. Maybe I should stop complaining and start developing the stories.

No, I don't have all the answers, those who think they do are still young and arrogant, I know, I thought so, I was. And, between us, I don't think I'd like to have all the answers, it's quite entertaining watching where things come from and where they will take us.

DRIVING TO WORK

She drove to work. Every morning she would step on her red Tracker and drove up to the laboratory in the middle of the higway. There she would show her teacher ID and park her car. At night she would show again her ID and pick up her Tracker.

Early morning she would climb downstairs and her red Tracker was already there, out from the garage waiting for her. It was part of the duties of the gate keeper to have the cars ready for the flat owners. She loved the sound of the engine when she turned it on, it was like a brief and wild good morning. She would then see her just made up eyes, still perfect on the rearview mirror, and she would step on the accelerator. She loved speed, although she was a bit anxious about it, it was like a game for her. After the extremely slow street where she lived, a block from a school, she would increase the speed through the long avenue which connected the city to the highway. Again the bottle neck there due to many people commuting made her decrease speed, but she knew this and instead of going mad shouting or getting desperate she would turn on the radio and laugh at the commentator's silly jokes or sing along to the eighties songs set on the same station. She would look then at the soft and pale morning colours, at the evergreens surrounding the highway, at the tall skyscrappers being constantly built, at the people waiting for buses that reached further into suburban neighbourhoods, at the... HONK!!!!! Oops, again caught in reverie. She woke up and fixed her sight on the cars and the highway, no more bottle neck, full highway speed, not a vertical though, this was the exciting part, this was where she felt the air running through her hair as she swerved on the curves to take the verticals again. And soon the lab was to be seen, waiting patiently and tall.

At night she came back to her red Tracker. She would put her books, her lap top and her recorder in the back and she would walk to the front seat tired, sleepy and hungry. She looked at her eyes on the reareview mirror, smeared rimmel and mascara. She stepped on the accelerator and watched the soft hues of the sunset, the yellows, the purples, the greys, the bright glow of the sinking sun. Them slowly, the lights would start sparkling from the small houses in the highway, from the lamp posts, from the twinkling stars above. Again the bottle neck, cars coming back and into the city. The air was cool, the night was calm. No need for speed. Soft music would come from the CD in the car. Soon the trees and the the grass turned into concrete sidewalks and houses first, then the school, the hospital, the subway station, the street to her house and the friendly gate keeper, ready to open the garage with a kind, "Good night, Miss X. Another hard day?"

CABAÑUELAS - THE FIRST 12 DAYS

It is a Mexican tradition to believe that the weather in the first twelve days of January will reflect the weather of each month. I have carried this tradition further, like a forecast of my life during the year. I like traditions and superstitions and forecasts to be calm or... if I don't like it, to change it, hehe. Well, here we have the predictions for each month according to the day. I'll try to make it short

1st - JANUARY

Cold. Day spent with Mum and daughter. Went to the movies to watch "Sherlock Holmes". No news from Sean.

2nd - FEBRUARY

Colder. Again day spent with Mum and Ame. Watched movies on TV and slept over at Mum's. 1st text from Sean in 2010.

3rd - MARCH

Cold, rainy. Breakfast at Mum's. Lunch at bro's. Dinner and Rosca de Reyes at Maru's. I got a sleeping baby.

4th - APRIL

Cold. First class of the 2010 at Carlos's. Ame and I at home.

5th - MAY

Cold. Ame and I at home. We had Rosca de Reyes at my place. We both got a lilac baby each.

6th - JUNE

Cold. Late breakfast at Mum's. More Rosca, no babies, I got a fire and Mum a pine tree! Ame returned to her Dad.

7th - JULY

Cold and rainy. Finally chatted with Sean again! Lovely! Ame came after school.

8th - AUGUST

Colder, rainy. Sean cancelled our chat. Mum picked up Ame at school and I went there straight from Carlos's.

9th - SEPTEMBER

Colder, rainy. Sean cancelled again. Ame stayed with me. Couldn't sleep well.

10th - OCTOBER

Coldest. Wrote Sean a message asking for an explanation early morning. All day waiting for a reply. Ame was here when I got it. Not nice. He hadn't signed the final divorce papers. Broke my heart.

11th - NOVEMBER

Terribly cold. Terribly down and depressed. Carlos was nice and funny. Ame came to visit me from school.

12th - DECEMBER

Cold. Decided I didn't care about Sean's situation after talking with Mirtha who told me why should I care if anyhow he lives across the ocean. Wrote him I missed him and loved him and never to let me alone in this world. Happy again.

CONCLUSIONS: I'm demented.

WHAT ON EARTH IS LOVE ABOUT?

And yesterday I got a message from Sean in FB telling me he hadn't signed the final divorce papers because he had chickened out. Quite out of context I know, but striking. I felt cheated, disappointed, sad, broken hearted and everything a good Romance heroine should feel before the great obstacle. The question is to forgive or not to forgive.

Many were my reactions --I thought about sending him directly to hell, to be mean and make him suffer and pay each and everyone of the tears I shed for him, to accept his apologies only under certain conditions, to accept him without delay or any further explanation or... or. And then I remembered. I cheated on him and I didn't tell him, I even enjoyed it, I even provoked it. Who am I to point at him and look down at him? After all he told me the truth, not exactly on time, but he did. He risked everything we have (whatever that might be) by telling me the truth which I asked for in the first place. They say that if you can't resist the truth better not ask for it. I cried, yes, I suffered, yes, but...guess what? I didn't die. And guess again... I still love him, or the idea of him loving me. Am I generous or on the contrary plain selfish? Do I love him or do I love him loving me? He has been in contact, desperate and quite lonely. He is suffering and I am glad, not because he suffers, but because he is not a cynical man who said, "So there, take it or leave it." He really does care. And I don't want him to suffer, but I need to know what I need. Is love related to what one needs?

Ana says I shouldn't take any drastic decision, that I should keep the friendship, but try and go out with some other guys here in Mexico. She might be right. Would I like him to do that? I know I am not in the best moment to take any decision because I am in my period and I don't think clearly, I react. I have to wait to be less passionate and more rational. In the meantime I write and talk. As Luz Aurora used to say, "The more I explain, the more I understand." And I do, I'm getting the whole picture, or well, maybe just a glimpse. I miss Seany, but I was growing dependent on him, I need to know if I really love him and for that I need to touch him, I need to be without him for a while to see if I can live by myself. I need to be happy with who I am before being happy with anybody else. I have removed the earrings he gave to me and now I am wearing my golden loops with pearls that my aunt Lydia made for Ame. I need to be available, but not 100%, I need to have a life of my own and not a life spinning around him, ordered to suit his moods and schedules. I need to love myself in order to love him even more.

I miss him terribly. I want him back now. I want to sleep hugging him tightly, snuggling and cuddling warmly and lovingly.

I can't hide the fact that our relationship is mostly based on fantasy and that maybe, when we finally meet, we won't stand each other and all this love will be a wonderful joke. That's a possibility. I know I can't stand how much he depends on the acceptance of people, I know I am too selfish. There will be things he won't stand about me. Will this love survive? Will this turn out to be real love or just a fantasy made to survive some hard years?

Once again, stay tuned.