Spotify and chill

It’s Wednesday 26th of September, 2018. I’m getting ready to go on my first date with C, the girl I matched with on Tinder last week. For some reason, my expectations are high. There’s just something about her, I don’t know. I hope I’m right. I’m so fucking tired of these meaningless flings, of the shallowness of it all. I crave some depth. I could also use a beer. So I get on my bike and head to Ølsnedkeren in Nørrebro. C will be there any minute.
She arrives, late. It doesn’t matter. She’s pretty. And fun. The conversation flows, nicely. We laugh, we flirt, I even ask her to grab her arm, to see how strong she is -she sold herself as an “amazon” on her profile. She’s indeed very fit. I like her. I want to stay talking with her longer, but it gets too late. We hug and say goodbye at the door of the bar. It’s cold and a bit rainy. I ask her for her number, to leave the realm of the dating app and meet in the real world. Then, I see some sort of an opening, but I don’t dare to make a move. I hold her, awkwardly, for a second goodbye instead. I head home. I feel great. I wasn’t mistaken about her. She is indeed special. I want to see her again. I get an SMS when I get home. She wants the same.
We sleep together on the weekend. Her kisses are weird -always aiming for my upper lip-, and the sex is as bad as it gets the first time. But I enjoy her company. She stays over for breakfast. We go for a walk in the park afterwards. We continue to hang out. Start fucking more and better. We fall in love. Then, we go for eleven months of the most intense relationship of my life.
We are very physical and can hardly stay away from each other. We see a future together. We talk about kids. We manage to settle on a name for a boy. Still deciding on the girl’s name. Whatever works in both Danish and Spanish. But it’s not all wonderful. We ride a crazy motherfucking emotional rollercoaster. It’s both great and awful.
We fight. Way too hard and too much. We disagree in our most fundamental values and the compromises of our relationship. It gets increasingly hurtful and toxic between us. She breaks my heart over and over. I strike back. We are both miserable. We split up. Get back together. Split up again. Hook up, casually. I feel like shit; I can’t ignore my dignity nor my values anymore. I tell her she’s a horrible human being, when I see no willingness to change in her. She kicks me out of her flat, furious. I feel gloomy for days. I come home from work and throw myself in bed. I cry my heart out. I’m emotionally devastated and exhausted, having barely slept for weeks. I write about it. Wondering how this will end, if and how will I ever recover. “I hope there was a way to fast-track all this pain, but I guess there’s no end to love,” I reply to a friend who asks me how I’m doing. And I look at the date. It’s Thursday 26th of September, 2019. I check my phone and reread her first SMS. I weep. It was us. Or it could have been.
“I practiced pronouncing your name on my way home. I’m thinking it’s getting a bit better. Thanks for a lovely night, I enjoyed your company and all your “confessions”, it’s very liberating that you are so open. And you are making me laugh, big plus there! Look forward to hear your writing skills soon and find out what you mean about “spotify and chill”.;) goodnight!”
Received 27 Sep 2018, 00.14

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