Rope

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Two stories about the same. Two story tellers. Two different families, two different lives.

He:

Upon a time I used to be naive, wanted to find the only, the significant one, once and for a lifetime, I was against a divorce, mistresses, cheating, poly-amorous life and all other demons of the world.
I lost my rose glasses but I still believe in love. I believe that it is possible to live without a lover, but I am struggling day after day. And sometimes I even try to make a step to the left, but at the very last moment I give up.  Because of my fear, because of  pricks of And I say her again: “I am back”. And she says “You can find a mistress. It gonna be interesting. Just be safe”. It’s like a rain check.

And sometimes I can even believe her.  But when I am back home and catch the glance of her deep and sad eyes, I understand that she says nothing of what she thinks.

But I desperately want to stroke breasts  so different from hers, want to kiss another woman, feel another heat, dive into another  body and become aware of passion, that probably is so different…

She:

I used to say my husband “If you need, go and find”.
As soon as I said that, I realized  that I don’t want him to do that. I wanted him to help me to glue our family back at the moment, when my efforts turned out useless and I said in desperation “Go and find”.

And as far as I remember, he asked “What about you?”.  “I am gonna be fine”- I replied. It was enough for him to have a close look at my eyes. The truth was about to drown in my tears.
It wasn’t a fair offer. I had a silly hope he would reject it.  I was blackmailing him with it and was putting him to the test.

Why? He was a friend of mine after 6 years of our relationship. As a husband/man/lover he was annoying. I was annoying as well.
I had a hope that he – as a friend of mine – will tell me about his other life; as a husband/man/lover – will hide it. He hid it.

He was lucky to find.
And we suddenly came to the end.
He lives with her now.
Hope they are fine.
And I do live.

Why do we blackmail morally our beloved ones by offering them something, what we are never ever able to bear ourselves.
We are giving a rope despite we don’t want them to hang themselves…

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