LUST, PRIDE AND OTHER FEELINGS

It's all your fault. Chapter 14

The weather was chilly and cloudy as winter should be. The landscape cold, dark and gloomy, a perfect representation of my current state of emotions. I am in my element. Have you ever felt the ability to control the weather with your mood at times? It started to pour freezing rain, and then it snowed briefly before raining again.

Throughout it all, I wandered down the street mindlessly with my oversized shades under the insane weather feeling like Storm from X-Men, dictating the weather attune to the frostiness of my heart and the tears from my eyes.

Retail therapy failed me that day, as I passed by my favorite stores like a drenched freezing rat. Lovesick couples seeking shelter from the storm reminded me of our time in Bali. I knew I will be missing his playful smirk, his protective arms around my waist and then I recalled that he probably started with Izabela before Bali.

The next moment I was pissed. All these sweet kisses were bullshit, our time spent together was bullshit, the great sex was bullshit, his tender gazes was bullshit, all this I miss you crap was bullshit, his loving touch was bullshit, everything was bullshit and I was in a web of bullshit.

I was borderline bipolar.
In the end, I found myself back at the lobby of my apartment. The first thing I did when I got home was to change the bed sheets. His husky cologne envelopes the pillows, his scent lingers around the room like an unwanted ghost.

I got to work while the song we made love to in Bali played in a loop. The first chords of the guitar struck and it was befitting how the lyrics spoke to me, like every sad love song was meant to be when dealing with a broken heart.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you,
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do,
I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you,
And I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

No, I don't want to fall in love
No, I don't want to fall in love
With you

What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way,
What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you,
What a wicked thing to say you never felt this way,
What a wicked thing to do to make me dream of you.

I sang along like a broken record, punching the pillow of his as I muttered, "You are a wicked, wicked, wicked man". All his attempts to get my admittance regarding my feelings was probably part of his wicked games and a power trip to him, like the thief of hearts he is.

Yet, he wasn't all at fault, I participated in this game of chess knowing the rules weren't in my favor and got my heart checkmate in process.

By letting him dictate the tempo of our tango, and dancing to his tune, I have single-handedly granted him the baton of power in this game of love, leaving me vulnerable along the way.

Nate was right, he tamed me. I became the doormat, and not the bitch. By turning into a doormat, I became the rule and not an exception. Today, that doormat is dead and the bitch is here to stay.

It wasn't an easy feat to remove all the traces of Nate. His toiletries were lined neatly on the toilet sink countertop, his suits and clothes had a small space in my wardrobe, his favorite whiskey on the kitchen island. Every belonging of his was packed into a luggage bag which will be in the charity box by Tuesday.

Afterall, his suits were probably worth tens of thousands of dollars.

I cried myself to sleep that night, something I've not done in 8 years, the wound was still cut fresh in my heart. This must be stage 3 of ending a relationship. Grieve and sadness. I want to skip all these stages and just be at the final chapter of moving on.

The bed now no longer smells like him, it was if he was never here to begin with.

By the time I woke up the next day, my eyes were swollen into little slits and my face was puffy. I looked like a zero on a scale of one to ten today. Regardless, I don't intend to meet anyone.