Dodo’s story continues and we delve deeper into the entanglement that got a man considered the epitome of fitness and health almost crushed.
Shock #2: The Anniversary – 11.26.2012
I believe that the place we are raised in has a lot to do with our personality. That is why I feel so weird when I walk around the streets I spent the first 12 years of my life in. Every corner, every house, every tree and the whole atmosphere is like the exact shape of my character.
Months ago, she’d asked me when was the first time I’d fallen in love. “At age 5,” I told her back then. She said it didn’t count. I think it does. I remember her big blue anime eyes, the adjacent balcony she used to sit in at night without telling me anything, her grandmother’s rose she plucked off, and that she threw the flower into our balcony and ran away. We might not have been sexually developed, but it did say something about our sexual orientations as well.
Besides, the main character of this post has the same big blue anime eyes, and I was getting too excited to talk to her like I used to get at the age of 5. Therefore, I told her that it counted most, that I’d like to take her to my first hometown, explore and reveal my feelings for her in that special surrounding. She said it felt so special and she’d love to do it. “I haven’t been so excited for a long time.”
It was 25th of November when I suggested her we finally did that the upcoming day.
“I’d like to do it so much. You know I do. But I can’t do it tomorrow,” she exclaimed, “because it is our first anniversary tomorrow and I have to spend tomorrow with her.”
She then tried to comfort me. “Please don’t think I am doing what I want. I can’t do what I want lately, I feel bad for not being able to come clean to him.” “Nonsense. Every human does what they ultimately want. It is pointless to celebrate the anniversary of something on the edge of collapse,” I said. She said I was completely right. “But I’d have to leave him if I refuse to spend the day with him, and it would be too cruel to leave him on such a day.” She did what she said she’d do.
Very early on the following day, she told me that they’d had a dinner and the whole time I’d been the main subject. He had told her it hurt him to sense that I was on her mind, and asked her if there’d ever been other people during their relationship. She admitted I was the only one, and he cried. “I’m making him so unhappy,” she said, and I told her I wasn’t happy myself. She apologized and wanted to see me at home, I said I wasn’t in the mood.
Culmination – 11.29.2012
Two days after the anniversary, inspired by the Divine Comedy, I feel like writing my longest, plot driven poem which had been on my mind for a while. A very good time, after my refusal on the previous day, considering we both want to make up for it. I get a notebook, make its cover out of real rug, the texture and colors of which I know she loves, and start writing. I can’t talk to her as much as usual, she figures I am up to something and it is not exercise, work or novel.
- Tell me what you’re doing.
- Something you’ll like.
- You know how easily I get scared. Stop the mystery.
- Okay, I’m writing an epic poem, a trilogy.
Not knowing about the book, she says she’d like to have it written on paper. So the following day (Thursday, two weeks before), she skips school and meets me. As I knew, she loves the book. She holds it tight like a child. Her hair is tied back, admittedly for me, because she never goes out like that but I’ve stated many times that I like her bare cheeks. Her dorm takes 30 minutes by walk from my house, she says she’d like to walk that road with me and wants to see where I live. We do as she says. She’s told me she’s fed up with so many roommates in her dorm and she wants a house of her own. I ask if she’d like me to arrange a place near mine. “Why not?” she says, “I’d feel scared not to have someone I trust nearby, anyway.”
She can’t stop talking about the Walking Dead. “I don’t know why I watch it only to have nightmares. It’s scary. Why don’t you watch it?” I say I don’t watch TV. She knows I prefer movies. Speaking of them, I’m a Jan Svankmajer fan. The last film I’ve watched is Conspirators of Pleasure by him.
- It is about six people with bizarre fetishes. Wanna watch that?
She says I could find something more appropriate to watch together. “It is not a nasty movie,” I say. She has me talk about the plot in details, then asks if I got any fetish.
“Not anything you’d call a fetish.”
She looks down with her usual puppy eyes. “I think I don’t have any either. I mean, I don’t know, I am yet to explore.”
She opens the notebook and reads the poem. It takes a while. No need to be humble, she will never hear or read better thought or more special words written personally for her. She gets teary. “I want to show this to everyone but I want to keep it all to myself. I admire you.” She compares me to her favourite poet, compliments my distinct handwriting.
The most intimate moments follow. “I love you… madly so,” says she. It’s been over four years since I said I loved someone. I say it, and my voice sounds so unfamiliar. The feeling itself is unfamiliar. I clearly sense specks of guilt in her eyes though, she sweats all over and I can’t tell whether it is from excitement or stress and confusion, but I decide not to ruin the mood or push her. It is clearly an inexperienced girl before me. Almost everything seems clear that she has made her choice, after all. We bid farewell.
Next day, friday morning, she says on the phone that she needs to take her clothes to the cleaners. I say she won’t need to do that anymore when she moves closer.
- I think I’d toss my washing machine.
- Haha why?
- I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just discovered a fetish.
- You’re crazy. Next time I’ll leave something you can wash!
The whole mood is suddenly destroyed when she invites me to a Europe tour for the next summer, and I realize I was invited only after the other guy seemed reluctant. I stop talking to her. She keeps flooding my cellphone with texts, claiming that her roommates think I make her happy, referencing my poems. Hours later, I tell her I feel like I’m reserved for future use, the fact that she invited him first for a summer event shows she doesn’t intend to make changes about the situation, whereas I am beyond a period when I can tolerate such an indefinite future. “I know how you feel, you’re completely right. I just don’t know what to do.”
On one hand I have you, who I value too much to give up, on the other hand I have a year full of memories I can’t let go. Please don’t say I don’t take you seriously, I did so much more than I was supposed to and I’ve been showing you as clearly as I can, I’m the one under the greatest pressure here because I liked someone else when I was in a relationship and I did him wrong.” She tells me all that, and the next day she goes out with him to guide a newcomer friend around the city. A thunderbolt almost strikes her, she passes out and is taken to hospital.