For at least six months after you said it was over, not much was changed in terms of our physical intimacy. I knew that our relationship was over but I was also hoping that you would change your mind. I could feel your emotions the first time we made love after our break up. Then you would remind me that it was just sex, no more and no less. I was at the losing end of the situation because getting mad would mean more alienation from you and yet silence would mean being a push-over… I chose to be a push-over.
Some people would say that making love with a person who dumped you is being stupid. But if being stupid would mean additional hours to be with the person that I love the most, then so be it.
Honestly, I had no idea that that night would be our last sex. You called it a sex so let me call it that way, too. I was stranded in a place that I was not familiar with so I was left without a choice but ask a favor if you would kindly fetch me home. You obliged and I was delighted at the sight of your car. Two of my officemates were with us, wondering what was really the score between us. We dropped them off at their place and we proceeded to the flat where I thought our married life would happen.
I offered you some pizza and you said you were already full. We went to the bedroom where we shared intimate moments before. You kissed me and initiated the sex. I obliged as if we were still together. The sex was brief and you fell asleep immediately. I sat down and marveled at you, the one who broke my heart. I combed your hair through my fingers the planted a kiss on your cheek. I hugged you while you were sleeping. I wanted that moment to freeze forever. I wanted time to stood still because I knew that you would be back home by early morning. No, the truth was, I didn’t have a good sleep that day. I tried to seize every second and feel your presence; not knowing that that would be the last time we would ever see each other.
Four o’clock in the morning, the cellphone alarmed and it was time for you to go.
“Can you extend until 6AM?” I asked while you were dressing up.
“No, I’m sorry. I have other things to do,” you said.
It took me almost two years to let go of the last clothes that you wore. Whenever I was feeling depressed, I would just hug them and pretended that you were just around the corner.
Those who have never experienced loving this much and then being dumped would never really understand what breaking up and moving on mean.