He tried to break up with me this Friday. Rode his bike to me, said he wanted to see me, begot a twisted irony because just two weeks prior he had rode his bike all the way to my house to comfort me and hold me.
It was an odd encounter. I smirked at times, realizing I was giving him the same defensive stance I give to bullies and broken friendships. He said he was confused, and that at my very doorstep things changed, because I saw his anguished face and touched his shoulder and asked if he was alright. I thought, perhaps, that someone had died.
We left with him saying that he needed time to think. To sort a muddled brain, to keep it safe and sound, apparently, from the pheromones I drug it with. That night I couldn't eat well; I went to Wendy's with a boy whose eyes are crystals and I saw two junkie prostitutes with skin stretched over their bones, with rotting teeth and the faces of old women. I couldn't stop staring, trying to eavesdrop on conversations from a foreign world to no avail. He had become a stranger, just as unreadable and inhuman as them.
The next day he changed his mind, which I had hoped he would do, in the back of mind. I told him, I never wanted us to be exclusive when I leave. Remember? And, it hurts me more to hear that you want to break up with me not because you've found someone better--we both know there are better--but simply for the sake of some doom that is bound to come.
If we find someone, through light flirtations and inquisitive dates, then so be it: we will end it. But why cut it off now? I don't understand your logic, I said.
So in this way he gave in, I made him admit that he still loved me even if he didn't think we were right for each other. He tried to leave me; I stopped him. I couldn't let it happen--there is no one else, absolutely no one, who I can lean on but him. It is a sad truth and I wish I didn't have to cause this burden, but soon I will go to college and there will be room to grow.
In the meantime, I refuse to be abandoned. There are so many things I love about him. I just want a friend who I can cuddle with, sit and spill my secrets with, laugh and cry with. I do enjoy making love, or having sex, or fucking--whatever you want to call it. In this one area of life I forgo feminist stubbornness because I really do wish to please.
Conclusively, in a mere few weeks we will be officially calling ourselves "on hiatus." But that's not quite what it is--it's not quite an open relationship, either. I go for the in-between of in-betweens, the hardest to keep in equilibrium. But the thing is, if you succeed, you have almost the best of everything. Same with Ana, isn't it?