Sexploits

i was dating someone mildly famous.. and by dating I mean I was sleeping with. I’m learning to speak in a realistic honest tone about the whole thing as a process of cleansing him from my system. For all the times my heart hasn’t been in it and I’ve been able to live in the moment without wanting more… this one gave me a good shake and subsequent slap in the face. The lines between love and infatuation are still blurred.. but whatever it was.. it’s changed me somehow.. and left me looking for distractions.
At one point I found myself wandering a park after having left the house in the easiest dress I could pull over my head.. no makeup.. uncombed hair and all. I stopped in the fanciest patisserie I could find and bought a chocolate meringue the size of my head that cost more than my week of groceries usually adds up to. i was so numb i couldn’t feel the cold or everything i ate tasted like nothing. I sat by the duck pond and called my mom… admitting the weak defeated words I’ve never in my whole life owned up to.

Julian would show up in town and send me a nonchalant text… he always stayed in the same hotel and after his first visit I would just ask for his room number… drop everything and run over there. i tried to act nonchalant but games can’t really be played with someone who is only in town for one night.

The first time he was staying under a fake name… he wrote it down on a piece of paper with his hotel’s address, his number, and slipped me cab money. I had to go up to the front desk where they told me they were expecting me and escorted me to the suite elevator. Showing up to a strangers hotel room at one in the morning gave me mixed feelings… more than how I personally felt, I didn’t like the idea of how it made me look to him. but jumping on the huge bed the next morning and raiding the mini bar while he was doing interviews quickly eased me into the lifestyle.
The next day to my surprise he texted me something sweet and invited me over again.. from then on it was a comfortable pattern for a few months every time he came around. By our third night together we were already reading in bed side by side.
He shared personal stories with me and always asked a lot of questions about my family and life. He would tell me secrets but then give me an untrusting glance and think out loud about how he didn’t know why but he felt he could trust me. he said he was good at reading people.

Sex didn’t seem to be the point. It was always quick no frills sex followed by good chats and cuddles. I think he was just lonely and I wasn’t a threat. I’d lay with my head on his chest while he smoked with one hand and stroked my hair with the other… we’d watch a movie and go to sleep early. He was always tired…. his one eye pinched a bit more… he’d fall asleep as the little spoon on the edge of the bed with me pulled up close behind him & his hand reaching around to hold me against him by an butt cheek. He never was even interested in morning sex. I’d lay there half naked and he’d give me lingering glances.. telling me I was sexy with a coy smile… but that was as far as his distraction would go. We’d order room service coffee & breakfast… either he’d leave for an interview and tell me to keep sleeping or I’d watch him pack wondering if I’d ever see him again. The best morning was when he ignored the schedule slipped under the door by his manager &  jumped back in bed with me for a few hours.. we both fell asleep facing each other for once… arms and legs intertwined.. when he woke up he stood over me beaming and said it was a damn good cuddle.

I didn’t sleep with anyone else between his visits because I knew no one else would make my heart feel that way and I didn’t want to erase the feeling he left me with. Sex didn’t even matter… I just missed his eyes and smell and the feeling of his skin under my fingers so much that I was blind to any other men around me. When he would come back in town without warning as he always did, seeing his name pop up on my phone made me lose my breath and feel nauseous. as the weeks went by between visits i would make progress towards ridding him of my every thought…. focusing on the fact that he was too busy for me… i would spend less time reading his interviews and watching him on youtube.. i would forbid myself to stand in magazine shops thumbing pages looking for his picture… but then he would come back and the process would have to be restarted…

When he’d open his hotel room door and his eyes fell on me, I could see that he had missed me. When i was reading in bed and he was at his computer i would catch him watching me through the mirror he was facing. But once he left the city.. I knew he left the thought of me behind too. Sometimes walking around I spot someone who looks like him out of the corner of my eye… my heart sinks and my stomach knots up. Via gossip blog i found out who would be sharing his hotel room with next time he was in town.. and though she would be mimicking the same patterns i had set with him, she probably had her own key. the distinction was made and i was put in my place. laying in a friends bed curled up with his laptop tears silently yet dramatically ran down my face. i spent a couple days in bed quietly mourning. Now i am just left haunted.