“I don’t think I love you any more.”
These are not words a girl wants to hear. Particularly, when the person uttering them is still inside you, and you are experiencing the after-shocks of a deep and satisfying orgasm.
“Then you’d better go.” He doesn’t move. “NOW.” I push him off me. He rolls over to the damp side of the mattress.
He makes no further attempt at civilised conversation. Taking me at my word, he climbs out of bed, and grabs his clothes. I bury my head under the pillow so I don’t have to look at him. But I can hear the crackle of static as he pulls a T Shirt over the torso that I was just stroking, the sliding of trousers up the legs that were so recently wrapped round my body.
“Bye then.” His words penetrate the muffle of the pillow case. If he’s looking for a moment of understanding or forgiveness I’m not inclined to give it. I wait till he has left the room before I allow myself to bring my head up to breathe. A sickly smell of sex pervades the room. It makes me gag. The door to the flat bangs. My cue to jump out of bed, run to the toilet and throw up.
I feel better for a second. And then I begin to cry. My body shakes with sobs that seem to surface from deep in my gut. What am I going to do now?
I don’t now how long I sit there crying on the cold bathroom floor, my sticky legs rubbing against each other, aggravating my eczema. I do know that when the tears finally subside, and I pull myself up, my face is puffed and blotchy. He used to say I lit up every room. No-one would say that of me now.
The stupid thing is, that I know he is right. He doesn’t love me. He never did. And I didn’t love him either. We were held together by mutual orgasm and the need for company on a Saturday night. Would it have made a difference if I’d said it first?
I have a shower, get dressed and make myself some toast. It doesn’t change anything, so I phone in sick. I put “Casablanca” in the DVD, wrap myself in a blanket, and settle down to watch.
The bedroom will smell of sex for days. The bedsheets will stay stained.
I’m not inclined to clean up just yet.