My Boyfriend, Part One

The one thing I haven’t talked about yet is my love life. Doing so makes me nervous; I feel like I’m going to jinx whatever shaky foundations are still left.

Jess and I met six years ago, when I was just starting grad school. To that point my experience with men was mostly surface; I got bored fast and usually ended things by the six-month mark. This one was different. Very smart, very sexy, very resident bad boy. Cool without trying; green eyes I wanted to drown myself in. If a good kiss has the power to stop an elephant stampede, his could have done more. I was a goner.

We lived in different time zones and had limited time together. When we were apart we talked every night into the wee hours of the morning. I burned up countless phone cards and slept on the train ride to school so I’d be semi-coherent for class. My plate was full and I was running on empty, but I didn’t care. I was happy.

When we were together, it was madness. New lovers can't keep their hands off each other, and this trap we threw ourselves into, headfirst. Gentle teasing quickly became fire, translated into mind-blowing sex dozens of times a week, anytime we could, everyplace we could.

The whole experience, the whole situation was completely euphoric. I couldn’t get enough, and it seemed he was walking the same line. Everyone says long distance relationships don’t work, but we were proving them all wrong. No matter how far away, no matter how often apart, the more time we spent alone, the more we craved each other.

We lived together during my internship in Europe, and we lived together in my home city. And slowly over time, fueled by one fuck up after another, everything started to slide.

I won’t ploy you with the bullshit because I’m not here to rant. To be quick, here’s the list: worries, terminal illness, funds and lack thereof, jobs and lack thereof, etc. Life became a giant millstone. Well, shit rolls downhill, and first list gave birth to second list: worries, anxiety, argument, minor depression, gap in communication, gap in sex, etc.

And yes, this was the time that my “gained most of it back” happened. Of course he noticed, and he would let me know that he’d noticed. At first it was subtle prodding, and he would say things like, “Do you think you’ve gained weight?” He would squeeze my butt with a sly grin, but then wrap his arms around me and slurp giant kisses on my neck. Everything would be okay again.

A couple of years later, he was being downright cruel. He’d waited long enough. He’d especially waited long enough to see me in a skirt. He had a right to want his girlfriend to look good. It was starting to affect our sex. He didn’t want people gossiping about it. And so on. Not too long ago, after it was brought up for the umpteenth time I blurted out, “Do I not deserve your love unless I’m thin?”

Here’s the answer I got. "Ask me when you are thin."