Cliché
At first it was lust, pure physical desire that ignored everything else. You had a great body, I had a passable one, and it worked. We’d drown ourselves in each other every night, and occasionally even in the mornings, afternoons and evenings. It was no great secret that our careers meant a lot to us, we usually worked non-stop and the stress was enough to kill someone.
That was where the agreement came from. It was proven that sex was a stress reliever and it was not lying when they passed the results from the tests. Every single time we were together, we would loose ourselves to the feeling of the moment and I could feel all the pent up frustration of not managing to solve a problem, ease away in seconds.
The agreement was simple. We would use each other, call upon each other at any point of time, and meet at locations set by either person. You would have to show up unless there was a dire need to be somewhere else, usually work related, or a date with another person that was possibly of long-term commitment. Dating outside of the agreement was possible, though with our careers it seemed like it wouldn’t happen, but if the possibility arose, we would follow it.
I guess the whole point of the agreement was that we were sex buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you wanted to call it, and for us, it worked. Sad to say that we didn’t really start out as friends, we had met at a dinner party for out companies and after a night of stress relief, we had struck the bargain, both of us being such work related people.
Somewhere along the line I fell in love. Considering it was a purely physical relationship, it was perhaps the most stupid thing that ever happened. At first I simply hid it, but the need for relief was growing and we began to schedule meetings a little more frequently. Projects were due and the stress began to pile onto both of us. Thus we began to see each other nightly, or more correctly daily, weekends included.
The idiotic part of this was when we didn’t stop seeing each other daily after the due dates were met. It seemed like you were a drug and a very addictive one because you began to come into my daydreams and then all I could think of was you. That was essentially the first sign that I had fallen in love, that and the small tingly feeling I had whenever you touched me.
I suppose I had always known that lust could only last for so long before something else took over. The normalcy of seeing you every night was starting to strain my body, but it was a nice strain that would technically keep me fit as well. As it was, when in love with someone that you shouldn’t be, there is always the pain of aftermath, or in our case, the pain of seeing you with someone else.
In the beginning it was simple. You couldn’t make it every night because you had a date, or you couldn’t make it for an entire week because you had work and her, but I didn’t think much of it, you had had other flings and they had ended soon enough. But then it began to grow, it went to the point where you didn’t see me for a fortnight or maybe even a month and I grew restless.
One night when I had just sent an email to tell you to meet me at a hotel we frequented, you replied with an email that said the contract was over. Apparently this woman meant more to you than you had impressed upon me because you seemed serious enough to break our agreement.
I had been shocked to say the least, but mainly I was panicking and wondering how to get you back. I knew you probably didn’t feel the same way as me but you meant the world to me. The number of ways I could get you back was swarming my mind and through my agony and my desire for you, I went to the restaurant that you were going to be at.
The first thing I noticed was the way you were sitting so dejectedly. All I wanted to do was go up to you and tell you that I loved you, hold you in my arms and explain that this was a pointless contract that we should never have made. Just as I was about to walk towards you, your eyes lit up and I felt flattered that you would feel that way about me. That was until I noticed that you weren’t looking at me.
I turned around and walking through the door, a beautiful woman strode in with an air of confidence that would have flattened everyone else in the room in comparison. I swallowed my pain and sat down, ordering something light so that I could watch you undisturbed.
Throughout the night, you were staring into her eyes and she was staring back just as dreamily. It became apparent that I was nothing when compared to her and it was obvious that it didn’t matter who I was because in all actuality I was nothing more than a woman on the side. Though I believe the more common term for it is a slut.
Finishing up, I left, my heart breaking into pieces and tears threatening to spill with every step closer to my apartment I made. I was probably a useless pile of tears by the time I had landed in bed, not even bothering to remove my dress as I curled up and cried my heart out onto my pillow.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t had my share of men, but I had hoped that you would learn to fall in love with me too. A depressing thought that was a side effect of infatuation and all that it encompassed, but it was a nice thought that had me living every night. It gave me a reason to wake up to every morning and walk through the double doors of my work building and into the awaiting stack of paperwork and computers that accompanied it.
It was over. Not a simple thing to wrap my mind around, but settled and truthful and I had to be happy for you, even if my heart didn’t want to listen. My life became something akin to a shell, working from 8 in the morning to something like 8 at night; I didn’t eat much food and didn’t sleep much anymore.
Very unhealthy if you thought about it, but then again I never was a very healthy person before I met you. Thinking back I suppose that you had let me live longer than I probably would have considering all the habits that I changed because of you. Word was sent to me to tell me that you were promoted and on top of that you were engaged. Not an easy task but one I’m sure you’d excel at.
Depressing story I supposed, now that I wrote it out and actually read it to myself, I realise that I’m probably one of the most stupid romantics of all time. I was waiting for love to come to me, I was waiting for prince charming and when he came, I let him slip through my fingers because I had held on to other things instead. I should probably consider telling you that I had a child, a beautiful baby girl that is one of the highlights of my life.
She comes into the room and I can’t help but smile anymore. I have something like a boyfriend, though I think he’s playing me because my money seems to get swallowed up by him. It doesn’t matter much though, he loves my daughter with the ferocity a father would give and that’s all that I need from him. He isn’t too bad I suppose, he knows how to rid me of my stress and even if he is a little heavy with his money I suppose he’s better than nothing.
I can’t love him, I don’t have a heart left for that, but I love my daughter enough and I hope that makes up for everything else. She’s highly intelligent and she’s already reading and everything, searching the house for material she hasn’t seen before and when I take her to a library, she drowns herself in all the words written there.
You probably haven’t seen me after the last time we had sex. But I had seen you a few times afterwards. After the dinner incident, I saw you at another person’s wedding but I left before you could see me and after I had greeted the bride and groom. After that, I saw you at a luncheon, which I left immediately, and at a staff party similar to the first time we had met. That was where I had decided to find myself and new man and one that was more long-term.
My life is riddled with times where I could have thrown myself at your feet but held back enough to make sure I didn’t do anything quite as incriminating. This is turning into a drama, something you’d probably find in home and away or some other cheesy soapie, but I guess that’s the whole point, my love life is cliché.
That was where the agreement came from. It was proven that sex was a stress reliever and it was not lying when they passed the results from the tests. Every single time we were together, we would loose ourselves to the feeling of the moment and I could feel all the pent up frustration of not managing to solve a problem, ease away in seconds.
The agreement was simple. We would use each other, call upon each other at any point of time, and meet at locations set by either person. You would have to show up unless there was a dire need to be somewhere else, usually work related, or a date with another person that was possibly of long-term commitment. Dating outside of the agreement was possible, though with our careers it seemed like it wouldn’t happen, but if the possibility arose, we would follow it.
I guess the whole point of the agreement was that we were sex buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you wanted to call it, and for us, it worked. Sad to say that we didn’t really start out as friends, we had met at a dinner party for out companies and after a night of stress relief, we had struck the bargain, both of us being such work related people.
Somewhere along the line I fell in love. Considering it was a purely physical relationship, it was perhaps the most stupid thing that ever happened. At first I simply hid it, but the need for relief was growing and we began to schedule meetings a little more frequently. Projects were due and the stress began to pile onto both of us. Thus we began to see each other nightly, or more correctly daily, weekends included.
The idiotic part of this was when we didn’t stop seeing each other daily after the due dates were met. It seemed like you were a drug and a very addictive one because you began to come into my daydreams and then all I could think of was you. That was essentially the first sign that I had fallen in love, that and the small tingly feeling I had whenever you touched me.
I suppose I had always known that lust could only last for so long before something else took over. The normalcy of seeing you every night was starting to strain my body, but it was a nice strain that would technically keep me fit as well. As it was, when in love with someone that you shouldn’t be, there is always the pain of aftermath, or in our case, the pain of seeing you with someone else.
In the beginning it was simple. You couldn’t make it every night because you had a date, or you couldn’t make it for an entire week because you had work and her, but I didn’t think much of it, you had had other flings and they had ended soon enough. But then it began to grow, it went to the point where you didn’t see me for a fortnight or maybe even a month and I grew restless.
One night when I had just sent an email to tell you to meet me at a hotel we frequented, you replied with an email that said the contract was over. Apparently this woman meant more to you than you had impressed upon me because you seemed serious enough to break our agreement.
I had been shocked to say the least, but mainly I was panicking and wondering how to get you back. I knew you probably didn’t feel the same way as me but you meant the world to me. The number of ways I could get you back was swarming my mind and through my agony and my desire for you, I went to the restaurant that you were going to be at.
The first thing I noticed was the way you were sitting so dejectedly. All I wanted to do was go up to you and tell you that I loved you, hold you in my arms and explain that this was a pointless contract that we should never have made. Just as I was about to walk towards you, your eyes lit up and I felt flattered that you would feel that way about me. That was until I noticed that you weren’t looking at me.
I turned around and walking through the door, a beautiful woman strode in with an air of confidence that would have flattened everyone else in the room in comparison. I swallowed my pain and sat down, ordering something light so that I could watch you undisturbed.
Throughout the night, you were staring into her eyes and she was staring back just as dreamily. It became apparent that I was nothing when compared to her and it was obvious that it didn’t matter who I was because in all actuality I was nothing more than a woman on the side. Though I believe the more common term for it is a slut.
Finishing up, I left, my heart breaking into pieces and tears threatening to spill with every step closer to my apartment I made. I was probably a useless pile of tears by the time I had landed in bed, not even bothering to remove my dress as I curled up and cried my heart out onto my pillow.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t had my share of men, but I had hoped that you would learn to fall in love with me too. A depressing thought that was a side effect of infatuation and all that it encompassed, but it was a nice thought that had me living every night. It gave me a reason to wake up to every morning and walk through the double doors of my work building and into the awaiting stack of paperwork and computers that accompanied it.
It was over. Not a simple thing to wrap my mind around, but settled and truthful and I had to be happy for you, even if my heart didn’t want to listen. My life became something akin to a shell, working from 8 in the morning to something like 8 at night; I didn’t eat much food and didn’t sleep much anymore.
Very unhealthy if you thought about it, but then again I never was a very healthy person before I met you. Thinking back I suppose that you had let me live longer than I probably would have considering all the habits that I changed because of you. Word was sent to me to tell me that you were promoted and on top of that you were engaged. Not an easy task but one I’m sure you’d excel at.
Depressing story I supposed, now that I wrote it out and actually read it to myself, I realise that I’m probably one of the most stupid romantics of all time. I was waiting for love to come to me, I was waiting for prince charming and when he came, I let him slip through my fingers because I had held on to other things instead. I should probably consider telling you that I had a child, a beautiful baby girl that is one of the highlights of my life.
She comes into the room and I can’t help but smile anymore. I have something like a boyfriend, though I think he’s playing me because my money seems to get swallowed up by him. It doesn’t matter much though, he loves my daughter with the ferocity a father would give and that’s all that I need from him. He isn’t too bad I suppose, he knows how to rid me of my stress and even if he is a little heavy with his money I suppose he’s better than nothing.
I can’t love him, I don’t have a heart left for that, but I love my daughter enough and I hope that makes up for everything else. She’s highly intelligent and she’s already reading and everything, searching the house for material she hasn’t seen before and when I take her to a library, she drowns herself in all the words written there.
You probably haven’t seen me after the last time we had sex. But I had seen you a few times afterwards. After the dinner incident, I saw you at another person’s wedding but I left before you could see me and after I had greeted the bride and groom. After that, I saw you at a luncheon, which I left immediately, and at a staff party similar to the first time we had met. That was where I had decided to find myself and new man and one that was more long-term.
My life is riddled with times where I could have thrown myself at your feet but held back enough to make sure I didn’t do anything quite as incriminating. This is turning into a drama, something you’d probably find in home and away or some other cheesy soapie, but I guess that’s the whole point, my love life is cliché.
No comments:
Post a Comment