The Rubber Band on My Fingers
“He fucked me so good that i almost said i love you.” said Lana Del Rey in her song.
I used to be skeptical over that line — until i had those words almost slipped out of my tongue.
I had never expected a sex so brutally honest like what i experienced with him. It was the first time i felt such explosive detained desire to say 'I love you’.
People say 'Do not believe anyone who confesses love in the midst of sex’. It was probably right. Maybe i was in a huge pleasure that my mind played a trick and i ate its bait.
Or maybe it was the peak of a bunch of denials and self protection.
Sometimes i felt so small in my own room without him around. Sometimes i felt as if this room wasn’t big enough for me alone. I told myself i need to be rational and push away superficial feelings i long to have. But weekends with him was such a treasure, since i am too 'no one' to beg for his presence.
Anyhow, i ended up hushing away my pride and kept asking him to stay. How dare I was. Even in a great struggle to read his mind, i could still feel the burning intensity between two of us.
One thing without doubt was the fact that he enjoyed that night. It was the only thing he wrote in the paper i handed to him. The rest was foggy.
And i didn’t dare to conclude any shit and find myself in pain later on.