The Egoistic Games We Play in Love
How do you cope with a cold-hearted lover?
The games we play
It is pitch black outside and raining heavily. I can feel the patter of a summer rain bouncing off the sunshade and onto the foliage beneath. It is also balmy so I thought a shower seems like a good idea.
How does one start to perspire immediately after a shower?
Maybe being in the tropics has something to do with that.
I decided to forego clothes and lay down staring at the fan whirring lazily as it cools off the sweat droplets that bead my forehead and elsewhere.
Predictably my thoughts find their way to you as they always do.
I wonder what you are doing — specifically what those dextrous fingers of yours are doing.
Reading, perhaps? You love to read so maybe that’s what you’re doing tonight wherever you are.
Is it a treatise or erotica this time?
Either way, it must be holding your interest for you are engrossed.
How do you possess such self-control?
So cool, calm, and collected while I’m burning up just by watching you nonchalantly flip the pages.
Your eyes settle on me from across the table and I see amusement in their depths. It’s amazing how you dismiss me just as quickly and go back to reading without missing your place.
Like you do in real life.
Were you expecting to hear the sound of my heart breaking? No, you won’t for there is nothing left of it to break….
But I digress.
Instead, I wonder whether your rigid self-control would protest much if I were to blindfold and restrain you to the bed.
Hmm?
The things I’ve in mind! Starting with a slightly melted ice cube guaranteed to shatter that annoying self-control of yours…
I trace my fingers whispery soft across my breastbone and imagine it is me straddling a blindfolded you, running a feather down your bare chest…
Yes, it’s as I thought — the book that was your life a moment earlier has been forgotten, lying where it fell on the floor.
So much for outer appearances but then again you were never good at acting — only pretenses.
As I trace a chilly path along your neck with the ice cube and quickly follow it with warm kisses and nibbles, I wonder in the wake of your moans, whether there is any greater punishment in love than the pretense of being indifferent.
Coping with a dismissive lover
Some of us have been there. Loving and being in love whose mission in life seems to be to break your heart in every which way possible.
You make every excuse for their sh*tty behavior because you don’t want to let go of something you have invested so much in — time, emotions, love — hope for a future together.
After all, they are all not bad, are they?
Those tiny glimpses of the hurt child, of the sense of humor that never fails to have you in raptures, the occasional thoughtful gestures not to mention the hours-long sessions of passionate lovemaking make you falter whenever your brain tells you it’s time to cut loose.
But the dismissive behavior takes its toll.
You slowly find your thoughts wandering along dark, unwanted paths of feeling unwanted, unimportant, and not enough despite everything you do.
Until one fine day the rubber band snaps. You decide enough is enough and you walk out.
That is probably the best decision you have ever made for yourself and your mental health.