I brush my teeth and realize that the toothbrush I bought for Anna, the first time she stayed over, is still there on the sink. I sigh. “I’m glad that, for a change, I didn’t fuck things up,” I think. It’s relieving. I had doubts and fears all along, but I didn’t fuck it up. I didn’t run away and tried to make things work, instead. Despite the constant questioning, my friends’ advice and my increased sex/cheating drive. I did not fuck up. Time to give myself a pat on the back. “You did good, Eduardo. You did good.” It’s comforting. It really is.

But, comfort and all, Anna will be missed. She was a goddess in the kitchen and the bedroom. Fuck, I’m gonna miss that. My stomach and my dick were very happy. And my brain too. She was as smart and a good conversationalist as she was good looking. Talk about raising the bar, huh? “Man seeks smart, fun, independent and self-driven woman who can cook, dance and fuck like a champ. Must be tall, fit and pretty.” Not too shabby. Not too realistic, either. What a tragedy, man. What a motherfucker of a tragedy.