When He Leaves
Illustration by Jon Ahmed Durano
My boyfriend and I share a peculiar bond, much more than what my parents had.
My boyfriend is awfully attractive. He has these stunning light brown eyes which accompany his carefully combed and often pushed back hair. His face, it seems, is sculpted to incise expensive magazines. His smile . I love the way his pants hang on his hips and the way the blazer frames his sturdy shoulders. I love how dashing he looks every day.
At work, he is the object of envy. Barely six months at his job, he is already the head of the engineering department. Way back in his college days, he was consistently in the dean’s list so the feat doesn’t really come as much of a surprise. He is a volunteer at Humans for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (HETA) and I have always admired his passion for abandoned beasts. I bet my parents would be so proud that their plain-looking daughter caught someone as proper as him.
We rarely talk. love him sorely but when he leaves, the bitch in me craves for something more.
I leave our home the moment he departs because the need to satisfy my desires has overrun what my perfect boyfriend could offer. Today, I go to the place of this 40- year old man I just met at a dog café the other day. He was polite and pleasant until he stripped my clothes and slowly kissed my lips — the valley between my breasts. He knew how to direct me towards uncalled pleasure, and I was grateful; guilty but grateful.
When I wake up, I realize that I need to be back at my boyfriend’s. I swear, wishing I won’t be caught is all that is inside my head as I returned. Thank heavens for allowing me to arrive before he did.
In a few minutes, the perfect boyfriend would be back bringing dinner for two and I would be content with the kisses he would give me. I look forward to the hugs and cuddles he would give me as soon as he arrives. My furry coat is already awaiting for his gentle touch. I hope he did not forget my favorite bone from Lovely Doggy Café because I wouldn’t wag my tail if he did.
Most people would be offended if someone would call them “bitch” but hey, I wouldn’t be. Yes, I am a bitch for not being contented with my relationship status with my perfect boyfriend, for having great sex with a total stranger earlier today and for having a tail and furry coat.
Every day, I look forward to sleeping beside my gorgeous, good-natured boyfriend who doesn’t mind my unpleasant animal smell. This bestial infidel doesn’t deserve someone like him.
I hope I would have this dissatisfaction no more, whenever he leaves.
