Domesticated

It was the best two months of my life here in the land of lah. My ex-better half flew in to find a job. I was at that time working in a multinational company as a computer professional. We were in an off-again, on-again relationship for almost three years. He stayed with me in a flat with two other professionals. Like me when I first got here, he was full of hope, excitement, and joy. We were happy that we're finally living together, after being far apart for almost a year. We wanted that to happen - our own place, living in a quiet community, and working in a fast-paced environment where the pay is promising.

We did a lot of catching up. After-office hours are spent domestically, conversations over dinner and a good "day-ender". I can never describe how great make-up sex was - consummating with the love of your life is the best thing there is. It was more than the cinematic style of erotica (where the lewd scenes are executed in a quick, beastly animation, while the love-making scenes are made brisk and sensuous). It was better than that. It was an amazing and wonderful thing any person can have.

We thought we were a step closer to our dream life.

The typical weekend was routine but robust. He'd cook breakfast (bacon, eggs, and Purefoods hotdog, the perennial Pinoy favorite). Afterwards we clean the room while laundry's in the machine. I usually do the more dirty duties like washing the plates and pans after meal, or scrubbing the tiles or the toilet bowl. He is justified, since he does the cooking. And he hated doing the dishes and cleaning the loo.

He's no chef, but his taste for ordinary food is wonderful. An ordinary spaghetti can turn to a great pasta. Tinola, adobo, and even fried chicken become special. Everything he prepares was gladly welcomed by my palette. I gained weight because of that. I gained so much, that I never mind being stocky at all. I used my gym hours in exchange for being home with him. While he's emersed in online jobhunting, I was watching Friends or Will and Grace in my video player. We were sharing chips and ice cream in the comfort of our own nest.

The gym is the usual weekend destination, after a satisfying siesta in the hotness of the afternoon. In the club, we do a bit of cardio dance, then some weights, and we're done. We paid no attention to details, neither were we conscious of cuts and abs. We wanted these, but wellness was priority. There were times when we wanted to be fit, so the sex can get better.

We wanted to look hot for ourselves, so we'd have a worthwhile time in bed with each other.

When being invited to go out, we join friends to dinner, coffee, or a drinking session. On one occasion, I got so drunk and wasted. He, on the other hand, was having fun and boose in moderation. I almost passed out, but he caught me from falling, lied me to a couch, and stayed there till he was sure I was sound asleep. He couldn't go back to the drinking table. He feared I might get nightmares, coz of my disturbingly loud snoring and involuntary jerking. I learned about it when he mentioned it in one of our altercations. When I think of it today, it was the sweetest thing ever.

I missed the time when this whore used to be domesticated. It was a refreshing and delightful time. I cherish it and will always recall in memory.

I am the one clinging on to him.

Precious as it was, that time was also the worst.

(To be continued)