Part II, The Roommate

My Lovers Diary Part I,

I loved being in his house, beside the lake. He would rent it for several grand a month to tourists. He had a gardener. One of his many houses, of course. At the time, I played this interior design game religiously, daily. My anchor to mental stability at the time, I suppose. His interior design was gorgeous. Some done by himself.  I did not have press on or crafted nails from a salon the time. He watched me play my little game on my phone, and said to me, “You type like a girl who has had long nails.”

I pause, and think to myself, now that is an astute observation. Nobody had ever before noticed that or at least said it to me. Nobody has said it since. However, now-a-days I am quite the homebody. Yes, there is a very specific way girls with long nails type. Even after not having nails, it is still the way I type. What way is that? Using the flat padding on each finger. One at a time, as opposed to the top of the finger. Observe other peoples fingers after reading this, look at a woman with long fake nails. Now look at a woman with natural nails. Look at a woman with no manicure at all. What do you notice?

He is one of those serial entrepreneurs. Restaurant idea didn’t work out? Meh. Sold it for a cute penny. He travels often, investing in start-ups in San Francisco. Fucking me in his travel van, the kind you think of from Scooby Doo or hippies from Instagram. Perhaps, another money idea, but it was his way to keep stable.  After spending years in corporate boringness in Japan every week for years. Wearing those suits. Urgh, that van was the stability and balance. Licking my ass and fucking me raw in the back of that van, the one you saw rocking in the park, during daytime with muffled moans. That was me and him. Predator to predator escapism. I was his tiger, he was my panther. Curious about me, observing me. Letting his metaphorical teeth gleam from time to time. Never daring to cross me.

I always loved how he looked kind of hippie, this rich, rich, rich entrepreneur with such a slutty taste. I enjoyed his semi-loyalty to me. I enjoyed the van, and how he would steal my Netflix account, how he liked to use the community showers. He would bring me foods and drinks I asked for, as any polite gentlemen should when visiting a lady. How he knew pretty much every restaurant owner in the big city I resided in. I enjoyed how casual and easy our interactions were. Then suddenly, we would be fucking. Like a hungry bear, he would dive towards me. I loved how he is a vegan, yet, had this bad boy essence to him. Something ironic about being a vegan and a previous corporate entrepreneur got to me. The balance.

He loved when I was pregnant, he had never fucked a pregnant girl before. He wished to continue on as my trimester grew. I moved away. I kicked him off my Netflix account before that.

He is probably frolicking in San Francisco or Thailand as usual. 

xoxo,

Chloe