It can’t be more than five minutes since the beginning of the exam. I’ve just had time enough to go through the questions. That’s what I always do. I have a look at them all. Choose the ones I know I can write more about. Then I start writing. Today, I don’t have anything to write. My mind is as blank as the sheets in front of me. I wonder if I should get the hell out before my paper is signed. I take off now, it will be like I’m absent. I sit ten more minutes, they sign the paper, I officially screw up!
I’m about to stand up. But I first glance at you. You seem to be at a loss for words to write too. But you take the moment to look back at me and give me that dazzling smile. Despite the ugly beard, I can’t resist. I sit back down. I guess I can try to sell my opinions for actual literature analysis! I can try for sure. The only problem is, I’m so tired from the hectic morning we had, I can’t even make up anything to write. I’m all sleepy and tired. My body hurts. I need a shower. I need to eat, and to sleep…
I have a very bad feeling. I feel something’s going to go wrong today. I’m so sure of it. I send you a message asking if you’re sure it’s safe for you to drop by this morning before the exam. I want you to know that I understand, and that it’s ok if you can’t make it. You just ignore me.
I’m drying my hair when you come in. you’re so in time! Are you trying to impress me or did you really miss me that bad? I wonder!
I call you to the bedroom. You look at me and you don’t forget to complement my hair. My sensitive considerate man! We talk about the exam. You know how I love to tease you about not showing up for exams. Today, I actually mean it. I really don’t know anything. But I also know that if I don’t come you won’t do well either. We joke around. You drink your favorite orange juice. We talk some more. I tease you some more about your stupid beard. I beg you to shave. You refuse. You don’t know how serious it is to me, do you? But I guess I can love you even when you’re so ugly!
It all starts with me telling you that I won’t kiss you again until you shave. On the one hand, I do want you to get rid of it. On the other, I’m in your arms, how can I resist? I try anyway. As I brush my lips against yours without really kissing you, I whisper:
- I’ve never raped a drug-dealer before!
- There’s always a first time!
- You want me to rape you? I mean, do we have time for it?
We have some 45 minutes. We have to, definitely have to, leave by ten if we want to make it to the exam in time. 45 minutes is good though! I don’t know how we make it back to the bedroom. Who leads the way? Who closes the door? Who starts it? Who does what? I don’t know.
All I know is that we’re in my half dark bedroom. The door’s closed. I’m in your arms. You’re pressing me against the wall. Kissing me like you haven’t kissed me in weeks. Kissing me like you know you’ll never kiss me again. Your hands, the hands I’ve loved so much since the very beginning, they’re going up and down my body. Caressing. Pressing. Touching. Teasing. Bringing me to life. Killing me.
I don’t know how we get undressed. One moment I’m pressed against the wall; the next we’re naked; in the bed; me on top of you. You and I know it’s not because we’re always pressed for time that we are in such a hurry all the time. It’s simply the fact that we can’t get enough of each other.
Afterwards, when I still have you inside, before our heart even start to go back to their normal beat, when our breathing is so fast we can barely talk, when you tell me how amazing it is for you, I’m thinking; “What we have here, it’s something to die for. I’ve never had it with anyone before. I know you don’t have it with anybody else. There are people out there who can’t dream of something even close to what we have. Still, you’re ready to let it go. You tell me that it’s for a short while. You force it down my throat that it’s take it or leave it. That I have no choice. That your pointless life is to be committed to that emotionless wife of yours. Is it not worth anything to you?”
It always comes to me making the sacrifice. I am going to be your sacrifice no matter what I choose to do. It’s too late for me now anyways. That’s why I decide to put on the show of being so happy for the rest of the day.
Poor naïve you!
We get dressed in a hurry. Will we ever have time enough, just to do something at our leisure? I’m putting on my mild almost invisible make-up. You’re walking around. Going through my stuff. Talking and laughing. Taking picks at me getting ready. You’re such a child when you’re happy; such a baby. I love to see you like that. That alone is worth any sacrifice I may have to make. Having more memories of you, so happy, because of me, it will be worth having to live the ruins of the rest of my life!
You’re supposed to give me a ride to college. Like the good old days. I love our rides. Me sitting there with you. Having no choice but to hold on to your body. Feeling your tummy, your Kevin Bacon that is! It makes me feel so close to you. It is so close to you. I don’t care if someone sees us, not today. Today you’re happy. I’m happy for you. The world is a happy place today.
On the way, as we approach a red light, I don’t know why, but I ask you if you have a driving license. You don’t. Just as I thought! The red light’s getting closer. The cab in front of us hits its breaks with no warning. We hit the car. Not hard enough for any one to get hurt. Not even hard enough for your bike or the cab to get a nick. But it’s hard enough, the sound laud enough for the police officer to notice us. He walks up to us. Asks for your license!
I guess it’s a good thing that I’m with you. You have a temper. But since the last time you went totally mad at someone in my presence, after embarrassing yourself that one last time, I see you constantly fighting to keep calm. You do it again. The fact that I’m there, seeing you do it, helps. My presence helps in other ways too I guess. Having a young smiling lady can’t hurt! We get out of it in no time with no real loss. We don’t even need to tell the officer our names.
I’m having a laugh over the whole thing.
- I’m happy you enjoyed your time! I thought you might get upset or be scared. Didn’t think you’d be laughing.
- Nothing like this has ever happened to me. It was a first. And it was absolutely funny!
- Happy you loved it!
It’s embarrassing that we can’t go inside together. But anyone can see us. And we don’t want that. You drop me off at the main gate. You drive to the back gate yourself. Now I look at my watch. And man, we are late! It’s 10:27! The exam starts in three minutes. Please hurry up!
I run inside. Check my seat. Find it. I haven’t settled in my seat yet when they hand over the papers. You’re not here yet. What’s taking you so long?!? I have half an eye on my paper, trying to read the questions. Keeping half an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through. And finally you do. Now that you’re safe in your seat, I can actually try to concentrate on the exam.
I’m all sleepy and tired. My body hurts. I need a shower. I need to eat, and to sleep. I can’t come up with anything more to write. I officially screwed up the exam. There’s still about two hours left. I know I can’t write anymore. The question is, do I sit here to glance and smile at you, hoping that it will help you; or do I just walk out and save myself from dying of boredom. I keep looking at you. You’re not writing either. God, you must be in the same boat as me! Then I look around. No one seems to be doing that well! Ok. So, maybe it’s not just me. Maybe it is a really difficult exam after all. That helps.
I decide to get out. You watch me get up and leave. And luckily, it doesn’t seem to have upset you. In less than 15 minutes, when you join me outside, I realize why! You had no idea what to write either.
We find a sort of out-of-the-way place to sit down and chat. It’s so freaking early, you don’t have to run back to your place. You start talking about the exam which becomes our most recent joke. How could two good students do so badly on a simple exam? But it’s said and done now. Nothing can change it.
We move on to talking about my book. We talk about names. We discuss the title. I tell you what I’m doing and how I plan to do it. You ask me about the cover design. I tell you that it’s going to be one of your dream-like crazy creations. We talk about it for about an hour. I then remind you that you have to go. To you, it probably seems like a fake attempt at being understanding. In reality, it’s an attempt at being cool, not minding the fact that you always have to go back to her. You say you have to return a movie on your way back.
- Can I go with you?
- Sure!
You look so happy that I suggested that. I know that the few more minutes that we can spend together this way mean as much to you as they do to me. I walk out and wait for you to pick me; which by the way takes a long time. Even the fact that you take detours and avoid busy streets seems funny to me today. She doesn’t scare you enough for you to actually obey her; but you’re scared enough to try to hide your relationship with me! It is funny, in a sad bitter way…
As we reach the video library your phone rings. You excuse yourself. You walk ahead. Like you don’t want me to hear you talk to her. Which you don’t! You don’t want me to hear you call her dear. I wonder if you really call her that because you want to keep her off your back, by pretending that you’re still into her. Or maybe you do really feel something for her? Then again, if you have any feelings for her, what are you doing being with me? If you don’t, why do you stay with her? I wonder if you don’t want me to hear you talk to her because you don’t want me to get upset, or is it because you don’t want me to upset you over it? I wonder!
Now the day is ruined for me. But as Freddie Mercury so wisely said: “The show must go on”! I still pretend to be ok. We walk in. you return the movies. You get your new ones. And I even suggest to you to see Chicken Little. Bad idea. It’s only after you get the movie that I realize you’re going to watch it with her. I’m even more upset now. Yet the show goes on.
Outside, back on the street, you’re walking me towards your bike again. I hate to do it, but I’d rather do it myself than have you do it:
- Shouldn’t we say goodbye?
- But I hate to say goodbye. I want you to stay!
I love it that you go so week and mellow because of me! Is it selfish? I love it anyways!
- Are you going to head back straight home?
- No honey. I’m really hungry. I have nothing at home. I’ll probably eat and then go back
What I don’t want to tell you is that my heart is blowing up into a big ball of pain again. You know that I need to distract myself at times like this. So, I’m going to probably walk home, the whole six kilometers. Hopefully, by the time I get there, I’ll just drop dead-tired!
- Are you going to cry again?
- No!
- Maybe just a little bit?
- No. I’m fine.
- Please try not to cry. Not today. Be happy. Be my good Stormy. Ok?
- Honey…
I’ve already got the tears in my eyes, waiting to flow out!
I walk away. This time, I don’t turn back to see if you watch me or not. Will you go on like this, being all nice and kind, the way you promised me you'd be?
I’m about to stand up. But I first glance at you. You seem to be at a loss for words to write too. But you take the moment to look back at me and give me that dazzling smile. Despite the ugly beard, I can’t resist. I sit back down. I guess I can try to sell my opinions for actual literature analysis! I can try for sure. The only problem is, I’m so tired from the hectic morning we had, I can’t even make up anything to write. I’m all sleepy and tired. My body hurts. I need a shower. I need to eat, and to sleep…
I have a very bad feeling. I feel something’s going to go wrong today. I’m so sure of it. I send you a message asking if you’re sure it’s safe for you to drop by this morning before the exam. I want you to know that I understand, and that it’s ok if you can’t make it. You just ignore me.
I’m drying my hair when you come in. you’re so in time! Are you trying to impress me or did you really miss me that bad? I wonder!
I call you to the bedroom. You look at me and you don’t forget to complement my hair. My sensitive considerate man! We talk about the exam. You know how I love to tease you about not showing up for exams. Today, I actually mean it. I really don’t know anything. But I also know that if I don’t come you won’t do well either. We joke around. You drink your favorite orange juice. We talk some more. I tease you some more about your stupid beard. I beg you to shave. You refuse. You don’t know how serious it is to me, do you? But I guess I can love you even when you’re so ugly!
It all starts with me telling you that I won’t kiss you again until you shave. On the one hand, I do want you to get rid of it. On the other, I’m in your arms, how can I resist? I try anyway. As I brush my lips against yours without really kissing you, I whisper:
- I’ve never raped a drug-dealer before!
- There’s always a first time!
- You want me to rape you? I mean, do we have time for it?
We have some 45 minutes. We have to, definitely have to, leave by ten if we want to make it to the exam in time. 45 minutes is good though! I don’t know how we make it back to the bedroom. Who leads the way? Who closes the door? Who starts it? Who does what? I don’t know.
All I know is that we’re in my half dark bedroom. The door’s closed. I’m in your arms. You’re pressing me against the wall. Kissing me like you haven’t kissed me in weeks. Kissing me like you know you’ll never kiss me again. Your hands, the hands I’ve loved so much since the very beginning, they’re going up and down my body. Caressing. Pressing. Touching. Teasing. Bringing me to life. Killing me.
I don’t know how we get undressed. One moment I’m pressed against the wall; the next we’re naked; in the bed; me on top of you. You and I know it’s not because we’re always pressed for time that we are in such a hurry all the time. It’s simply the fact that we can’t get enough of each other.
Afterwards, when I still have you inside, before our heart even start to go back to their normal beat, when our breathing is so fast we can barely talk, when you tell me how amazing it is for you, I’m thinking; “What we have here, it’s something to die for. I’ve never had it with anyone before. I know you don’t have it with anybody else. There are people out there who can’t dream of something even close to what we have. Still, you’re ready to let it go. You tell me that it’s for a short while. You force it down my throat that it’s take it or leave it. That I have no choice. That your pointless life is to be committed to that emotionless wife of yours. Is it not worth anything to you?”
It always comes to me making the sacrifice. I am going to be your sacrifice no matter what I choose to do. It’s too late for me now anyways. That’s why I decide to put on the show of being so happy for the rest of the day.
Poor naïve you!
We get dressed in a hurry. Will we ever have time enough, just to do something at our leisure? I’m putting on my mild almost invisible make-up. You’re walking around. Going through my stuff. Talking and laughing. Taking picks at me getting ready. You’re such a child when you’re happy; such a baby. I love to see you like that. That alone is worth any sacrifice I may have to make. Having more memories of you, so happy, because of me, it will be worth having to live the ruins of the rest of my life!
You’re supposed to give me a ride to college. Like the good old days. I love our rides. Me sitting there with you. Having no choice but to hold on to your body. Feeling your tummy, your Kevin Bacon that is! It makes me feel so close to you. It is so close to you. I don’t care if someone sees us, not today. Today you’re happy. I’m happy for you. The world is a happy place today.
On the way, as we approach a red light, I don’t know why, but I ask you if you have a driving license. You don’t. Just as I thought! The red light’s getting closer. The cab in front of us hits its breaks with no warning. We hit the car. Not hard enough for any one to get hurt. Not even hard enough for your bike or the cab to get a nick. But it’s hard enough, the sound laud enough for the police officer to notice us. He walks up to us. Asks for your license!
I guess it’s a good thing that I’m with you. You have a temper. But since the last time you went totally mad at someone in my presence, after embarrassing yourself that one last time, I see you constantly fighting to keep calm. You do it again. The fact that I’m there, seeing you do it, helps. My presence helps in other ways too I guess. Having a young smiling lady can’t hurt! We get out of it in no time with no real loss. We don’t even need to tell the officer our names.
I’m having a laugh over the whole thing.
- I’m happy you enjoyed your time! I thought you might get upset or be scared. Didn’t think you’d be laughing.
- Nothing like this has ever happened to me. It was a first. And it was absolutely funny!
- Happy you loved it!
It’s embarrassing that we can’t go inside together. But anyone can see us. And we don’t want that. You drop me off at the main gate. You drive to the back gate yourself. Now I look at my watch. And man, we are late! It’s 10:27! The exam starts in three minutes. Please hurry up!
I run inside. Check my seat. Find it. I haven’t settled in my seat yet when they hand over the papers. You’re not here yet. What’s taking you so long?!? I have half an eye on my paper, trying to read the questions. Keeping half an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through. And finally you do. Now that you’re safe in your seat, I can actually try to concentrate on the exam.
I’m all sleepy and tired. My body hurts. I need a shower. I need to eat, and to sleep. I can’t come up with anything more to write. I officially screwed up the exam. There’s still about two hours left. I know I can’t write anymore. The question is, do I sit here to glance and smile at you, hoping that it will help you; or do I just walk out and save myself from dying of boredom. I keep looking at you. You’re not writing either. God, you must be in the same boat as me! Then I look around. No one seems to be doing that well! Ok. So, maybe it’s not just me. Maybe it is a really difficult exam after all. That helps.
I decide to get out. You watch me get up and leave. And luckily, it doesn’t seem to have upset you. In less than 15 minutes, when you join me outside, I realize why! You had no idea what to write either.
We find a sort of out-of-the-way place to sit down and chat. It’s so freaking early, you don’t have to run back to your place. You start talking about the exam which becomes our most recent joke. How could two good students do so badly on a simple exam? But it’s said and done now. Nothing can change it.
We move on to talking about my book. We talk about names. We discuss the title. I tell you what I’m doing and how I plan to do it. You ask me about the cover design. I tell you that it’s going to be one of your dream-like crazy creations. We talk about it for about an hour. I then remind you that you have to go. To you, it probably seems like a fake attempt at being understanding. In reality, it’s an attempt at being cool, not minding the fact that you always have to go back to her. You say you have to return a movie on your way back.
- Can I go with you?
- Sure!
You look so happy that I suggested that. I know that the few more minutes that we can spend together this way mean as much to you as they do to me. I walk out and wait for you to pick me; which by the way takes a long time. Even the fact that you take detours and avoid busy streets seems funny to me today. She doesn’t scare you enough for you to actually obey her; but you’re scared enough to try to hide your relationship with me! It is funny, in a sad bitter way…
As we reach the video library your phone rings. You excuse yourself. You walk ahead. Like you don’t want me to hear you talk to her. Which you don’t! You don’t want me to hear you call her dear. I wonder if you really call her that because you want to keep her off your back, by pretending that you’re still into her. Or maybe you do really feel something for her? Then again, if you have any feelings for her, what are you doing being with me? If you don’t, why do you stay with her? I wonder if you don’t want me to hear you talk to her because you don’t want me to get upset, or is it because you don’t want me to upset you over it? I wonder!
Now the day is ruined for me. But as Freddie Mercury so wisely said: “The show must go on”! I still pretend to be ok. We walk in. you return the movies. You get your new ones. And I even suggest to you to see Chicken Little. Bad idea. It’s only after you get the movie that I realize you’re going to watch it with her. I’m even more upset now. Yet the show goes on.
Outside, back on the street, you’re walking me towards your bike again. I hate to do it, but I’d rather do it myself than have you do it:
- Shouldn’t we say goodbye?
- But I hate to say goodbye. I want you to stay!
I love it that you go so week and mellow because of me! Is it selfish? I love it anyways!
- Are you going to head back straight home?
- No honey. I’m really hungry. I have nothing at home. I’ll probably eat and then go back
What I don’t want to tell you is that my heart is blowing up into a big ball of pain again. You know that I need to distract myself at times like this. So, I’m going to probably walk home, the whole six kilometers. Hopefully, by the time I get there, I’ll just drop dead-tired!
- Are you going to cry again?
- No!
- Maybe just a little bit?
- No. I’m fine.
- Please try not to cry. Not today. Be happy. Be my good Stormy. Ok?
- Honey…
I’ve already got the tears in my eyes, waiting to flow out!
I walk away. This time, I don’t turn back to see if you watch me or not. Will you go on like this, being all nice and kind, the way you promised me you'd be?
