My first relationship was like Amarula, something sweet and sticky. It started smoothly the way that drink rolls on the throat. It ended with a bitter after taste that left me dizzy. It was like alcohol that was shy of being alcohol. I was young and not proud of my vices so I tried to cloth them in syrup. Whenever I swam in her warm depths, all I could think of was sugar, wide plains, distant farms, friends and a hint of something I know but cannot remember. I drunk from her wells but was never satisfied. Like sugar, she was something I kept returning to. She was exotic. I still remember her Brazilian hair and ass. She had a thin voice that sometimes got thick. She could be drunk in a cup or from the bottle. She was for everyone and sometimes, common things are not to be kept.
‘But something about her makes me think my life could be extraordinary’
My second relationship was like beer: nothing special, sour with the promise of light headedness. She was vulgar, a guy’s guy, with a large, booming laugh and even larger tits. It was meant to wash out the taste of the past and started without preamble. It washed off former tastes but left me with a thick, dry tongue and a banging headache.
My last relationship was like Arizona. Something sweet and exotic and sour and confusing that I got enough of and wanted more when I thought I had had enough. It was an unfamiliar thing that I was used to, something I knew but was still a stranger to. It was that thing you wanted till you had. Who knew non-alcoholic juices could give you a hangover?
‘Love has an infinitesimally small half-life that decays to nothing. And when it’s gone, it’s like it was never there at all.’ – Nicola Yoon
My current relationship is like marijuana and red wine. Maybe because that’s what we have when we sit on a mat in an unused boys-quarters, taking long drags and swigs. Maybe because that’s what I think of as I lean over her balcony dragging deep from an almost finished blunt. Maybe because wine is something open and mature, like our conversations. And I’m proud of my vices that are not even vices. There’s also the hint of something spiritual, like marijuana.