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A Woman’s Conundrum
I should have known better than to be devastated. After all, I am a pro, an expert in matters of the heart – or so I thought. But with the sudden, heart wrenching break-up with my love of three years, I was back to square one. In spite of my status as a dating guru, I was clueless. My name is Cherie.
George and I were in bed for one of our afternoon romps. No better way to spend a wet Sunday afternoon in April, when the Irish spring doesn’t live up to its promises. A pilot for one of the new economy airlines, George was home on layover for a full weekend. A rare event.
Cocooned under a fluffy duvet, I snuggled up against his warm, welcoming body and caressed his skin. With a rush of trepidation, I plucked up all my courage to ask him what had been on my mind for a while. “I see you got Fintan’s plans back. Are we setting up house together now?”
I hadn’t dared to bring it up before. I knew only too well that George’s past experiences had made him relationship challenged, even commitment-phobic, but now he was about to refurbish his sprawling house tucked away in a cove by the sea on the coastline north of Dublin. The architect’s plans were scattered everywhere. Silly me, I was hoping to even have some say in the remodeling.
“I can help you choose fabrics and new furniture.” But the request for advice never came.
”Look, I’m not that happy,” George said pulling away as he swung his legs over the bed. He got up, covering his now dangling manhood with the briefs he discarded ten minutes before in expectation of an after lunch snooze/shag combo, usually our favorite time. “You want things from me that I’m not ready for.” George said. Then hesitating, “Honestly, I feel we never totally connected.”
I took in his tanned, lean frame that I loved so much. What was he on about? Never? “It didn’t feel that way to me the last time we made love. What about your promise to keep me fed and watered as well as kissed and sexed, even if it wore you out,” I answered, forcing a brittle smile. Our old joke didn’t work this time.
“I don’t like the whole boyfriend thing and all the responsibilities that go with it.” I sensed the rumblings of an earthquake. “I have so much more love inside me that you were never able to unleash.” By now the pillars of my known world got a real good shaking. Then he delivered the coup de grace: “In the long run, I’m looking for somebody more stimulating and exciting.” That really took the biscuit. And the biscuit took three years and only the threat of more intimacy to come out. Not being suitable or not being loved back is bad enough, but to say that I wasn’t stimulating? Ouch. If I were a man, a remark like this might cause permanent ED. In this case, it was rupturing my soul.
Fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt, George looked out the window onto the grey horizon and soggy gardens. “I like the way things are and don’t see myself giving up my freedom.” With these words he ruled out any future together, any plans I might have been harboring. And they had the power to nullify each tender moment, act or word of love that we had shared in the past three years.
There was nothing left to say and no reason to continue. In a daze, I put on the dark red lacy underwear he had bought me for Christmas, and covered them with the first layer of heavy winter clothes. I stared at him, but no further explanations were forthcoming. Scrutinizing his face for any signs of regret, I found nothing to latch onto. I struggled with my watch and necklace. Hesitating for a moment, I looked at the ring I had talked him into buying for my birthday. What had I been thinking? I left it on the bedside table. He didn’t notice; something in the garden continued to grab his fascination.
If I gave him one more moment’s sway, the agony would be so devastating that I wouldn’t make it home in one piece.
“I won’t be coming to the party tonight then,” I said, all dressed now down to my boots. The plan had been to host his best friend’s 50th birthday party that evening. But no longer with me! My heart was pounding, ready to explode.
George eventually turned around and looked at me, his lover of three years. Frowning, he said, “What shall I say to the others?”
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