Once again

I can clearly remember the song I heard the first time I got drunk. I was seventeen and, while I zigzagged to the bathroom of that beach bar, Space Oddity by David Bowie started playing. I can also recall that, the first time I kissed my long lasting ex, we were listening to Travis and their version of Britney Spears’ Baby one more time. But when I think about who I believe to be the woman of my life, the song that pops in my head is one I fucking hate: Get Lucky, by Daft Punk. And I don’t hate that song only because I literally heard it EVERYWHERE for several months. The reason because I hate it the most is because it reminded me of her, L, during that horrible period after she broke up with me.

I was a complete mess for over 6 months. L had taught me how to love and showed me this feeling is real, despite of what I’d learned before with my previous experiences. She became the sweetness that justified living 30 years of bitterness. So you can imagine it was really hard for me to let her go after she called the end of our relationship. How was I suppose to do that? My head understood her words, her rejection; but my heart was stuck on her past “I love you’s.”

Had to go through many processes, from unconditional love to unleashed hate, to get to a point in which I could feel I finally moved on. And, right then, the impossible happened. L, having realized she never stopped loving me, came back into my life. It was great, yet absolutely shitty in its timing. Moving on hadn’t only meant turning the page and jumping to the next chapter of my personal history. It also implied starting a new relationship and a life change; all things I wasn’t willing to give up so easily.

Did what I had to do, or what I thought I had to. In the end, I just fucked up. Gave a try to the new relationship while I wouldn’t stop talking to L. When the new girl realized there was something odd going on, I had to confess the whole deal. She left me with her heart broken, but she wasn’t the only one hurt. L suffered the whole time, knowing that after I turned off Skype I would go and sleep with another person. And I can’t even say I enjoyed myself either. The guilt for the damage I was causing to everyone involved in this strange situation wouldn’t leave me alone.

After the new girl was gone, things didn’t get much better between L and me. She was half way around the world and I was surrounded by temptation. Add a great deal of resentment on my part, justified mistrust on her side, and you get an awful mix. Plus, the distance wasn’t helping. What’s the point of having a disfunctional relationship if you can’t even have epic sex to make it be worth it?

Nowadays I wonder if there’s a happy ending for this story. I could only rely on wishful thinking to say “yes.” I made a big mistake, and L did her own share. Don’t say it’s gonna be easy to leave all that behind us and focus only on our common present and possible future together. There’s a lot to fix yet. Although I cannot say I’m pessimistic about it, because she already took the first leap of faith to make up for her errors. Right now, as I write these words, she’s on a plane from London to Santiago de Chile. I have no idea how tomorrow’s reunion is gonna be and I won’t hide that I’m very nervous about it. However, this feels right. Messed up and all, I think our love story deserves we give it a try, at least once again.

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