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May 15th 2006. Nina tells her story

We're in bed together, under the azure sheets in the dark room. Sex hasn't gone very well until now. First my erection vanished, then it came back, then she started to ache and we had to stop again. Of course it's seems a little disappointing because we haven't been together for a lot, and it's rare we have a whole afternoon for us. But obviously things aren't smooth. There's nothing to be disappointed for, I tell her. It doesn't feel hypocritical, although it should.

We're in bed and we just go on talking for a while. I tell my story. She tells her story.
"It's not your fault. I have someone else in mind" she says.
"You told me something about someone else. Wasn't he your boss or something? I thought it was over."
"Of course it is over. Did I mentioned he has a wife and a baby? But I still have him in mind."
Then she adds, "probably I care for him less now, but illogically he's still there."
"Oh. That's too bad," I moan, rolling back to the pillow. "But what, do you see his face while we're doing it? Do you make comparisons?"
"Yeah... no! I mean, sex wasn't perfect at all with him. It's just that I am this very monogamous person."
"Is there any way you two can meet again? See how it feels? I guess it's been a while you two haven't been together. You should be with him again and see how..."
"I don't believe so. I scared him away."
"You scared him? This doesn't sound like you. What did you...?"
"I did a stupid thing. One year ago, exactly. I... took some pills, I staged this thing. I don't think I really wanted to, you know."

I am looking at her from my elbow now. I watch her as she rubs her eyes with her thumbs and looks away. This is something I wasn't expecting. I know she should not notice how this scares me. I stroke her forehead and say "Wow. That's something I didn't imagine."
"Yeah, didn't you?" She says. We laugh for a second.
"I didn't wanted to die, really. I took the pills but then I called my father. I also texted him at a certain point"
"You mean the guy?"
"Yeah, I said 'goodbye' or something like that. Very dramatic. My memories aren't very clear." We laugh again.
"But, what had happened?"
"Just a typical wishy washy situation. We split up, I moved to another workplace, trying to forget him and to catch up with exams, then he came back, then one day he said he had changed his mind again, and was going back to her. At that point the pain was so big I just wanted to sleep forever."
"But you called your father."
"And my father had to call the firemen because my keys were into the lock and I was very passed out. Then he arrived too, just about when all the disaster was going on, and the police asked him who he was. They had my cellphone, they read the messages, so they knew he was the repository of all the craziness. My mother handbagged him, I think, poor guy. Later she said it was all my fault, that I obsessed him."

There's a pause. Our bodies are still entangled under the sheets and the house is quiet. From behind the shades Ornella Vanoni's voice oozes in. It's a song I don't know.
"Yeah, I guess you scared him away," I say then.
Somehow, I feel we are both sorry for it, in a quiet way.


 
 

 

8 Responses to “Nina tells her story” :

Giorgio said

gosh, this story isn’t as it should be. I mean, it’s told in “a quiet way”, but it’s a suicide attempt, after all.

corpodibacco said

there is no other way to tell it, mr. Giorgio.

AY said

In my mind, I always have this idea (perhaps misconception) that Italians are very similar to Asians. This scenario is extremely common in Asia. It’s nothing more than emotional blackmail.

Nor can I understand the fuss made over someone (clearly unworthy) who doesn’t want to reciprocate love. It’s merely a compatibility issue and people take it so seriously. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Please tell E. I hope she’s well.

Constantblogger said

I’m wondering why I love reading your stories. It’s your life, not mine. It’s about your feelings and your soul.

Your blog is one of the most intimate I’ve ever read. Maybe that’s why I love it.

corpodibacco said

AY: I can’t tell E. anything because she obviously has no idea I have a blog, in english language, where I write about my life and –in this case– about hers too! If it wasn’t all entirely “anonymous” here, I would not dare to write about someone else’s life and private affairs, and so to write about my life and private affairs too.
Nobody I know in “real” life knows I have this blog. Maybe one day, who knows, I’ll come out of the closet.

About what you say, you’re right, but, as you know, when there’s love, and there’s pain, it’s not about being rational and knowing what is worthy or not. It’s about your feelings, often so irrational and unmanageable. And even if it’s true that there are plenty of fish in the sea, it’s also true that mating is about picking one single fish among the many.
When you pick one, and it goes away, it’s not that easy to readjust yourself to the idea that that fish wasn’t the one, no?

corpodibacco said

Constantblogger: Well, just, thank you! For reading me and for letting me know… even though knowing that readers are out there freaks me out. I guess it also gives me a reason to get along with writing, and to be, where possible, more sincere and more personal.
Although the final goal is just to be more honest. When I’ll learn the trick to be honest right away, I’ll start inventing stories and stop writing about my life. :)

AY said

Of course what you’re saying is true, Corpodibacco (what does this mean anyway, nothing rude I hope =D). But isn’t it why we learn from trial and error? I do think that the meaning is to find happiness - or as much of it (without hurting others whilst) as we can. Although it is difficult to break out of that cycle of pain-addiction, we must fight to.

PS: I hear you. No-one I know irl knows about my blog either.

Giorgio said

oh what secretive bloggers here!
many people I know in real life knows I have a blogger, but, after having visited it a couple of times they usually never come back. I cannot explain why, but it is that way.

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