Friday, 6 December 2013


Life is like a porno.

Life is a porno.

People think that the movies are tacky, when one murders another, when one starts crying at a Communist manifesto, well that is life, you lose your iPhone in the toilet and when you’re doing pasta for the 33rd time on the same recipe your grandmother gave you, I start feeling like I’ve got too many secrets to hide and they are all just thoughts, as Javier mentions the new actress in the movie he’s in which is hot

and I wonder

why do I limit myself.

Why don’t I just go and try to lose that iPhone or just go somewhere

I haven’t dated in years and frankly if I go out with Javier I know which wine we will try and if it’s something new, we’ll regret it and the sex is going to be amazing and once a month we’ll watch some porno, because we’ve both admitted finding it sexy sometimes or sometimes we just flick it off

it’s stupid, stupid, I love him.

I don’t wake up and wonder how can I kick him off the bed or when he will shave or what the fuck has the hairstylist done to his hair or why does he have to workout or why does he bother to shave his balls sometimes

I’ve reached the point where I love him too much

and the question is, can I love someone else.

I want to be with him, keep on making the pasta, but for now, it’s not even that I want fun, it’s the fact that we’ve tried gay men porn and he’s wondered aloud at night, just that my lesbian thoughts came at day

I know he won’t leave me and neither will I.

It doesn’t matter who he is, he’s mine and I’m his, we both meant those vows, our sex didn’t die, nothing died and when I get ill and concerned that he will as well, I forget about my thoughts of trying something else, but they come

I stretch our silence and he just looks at me confused.

It’s stupid to hide your desires from yourself and from Javier who becomes me, when I stroke his arm, I wonder why don’t I feel it, because he is me, I’d shave my balls as well, I don’t understand why women scream at the thought of a brazilian. But fuck them.

He nods at me. 

I take a sip of wine. We should’ve done something stronger, I didn’t listen to that thought, I really should.

Open it.

“If you like her, sure, invite her over.” I shrug and I fork some pasta.

He blinks.

“What?” I chew and I swallow. “I know you love me and frankly, I love you too and come on, we’ve moved on, you shouldn’t just touch yourself in the toilet if you want another woman.”

My grandmother is yelling at me.

“I don’t think neither should I. I love you and I will stay with you, I still want you.” I’m sure we’re fucking later. 

“So that’s what that was about.” He smirks and I just shrug, focusing on the pasta. Asshole, knows everything. Maybe I need to concentrate and I will feel the tingle when I stroke his arm. I keep my silence for a good while at the rest of the evening before we both have our food done, plats tucked in the dishwasher and we both burst out laughing. We watch some movie before night takes us in it’s embraces and when I wake up in the morning the hug is gone, leaving both of us cold, so we head back to the kitchen for some coffee.

I agree to meet Scarlett who happens to be in Madrid and I feel horrible, I feel terrible as if she’s my victim and I know she’s single and she’ll be watching Spanish men all afternoon, grinning at the right ones or grabbing my arm when someone checks her out too much or is far too young.

I feel horrible that I expect it to be a waltz, but instead when I do see her, a bit lost, I feel horrible and after all in the eyes of pretty much everyone I’m still a married woman who is looking for a fling, I know I’ll be with Javier and I will have our children soon enough when I will feel like changing the table cloth finally. Actually, she doesn’t even know that me and Javier have sealed the deal and I feel horrible that in the day we both departed I had a light ping that Javier would do it and I wouldn’t and it’s surely wrapped in the fact that I’m female.

And how actually is it to touch a woman? Sure, I’ve kissed, been in stupor in the moment and I’ve only kissed once back to just lock eyes and never see the girl again.

But how would it be to touch?

She’s sitting there on the bench with the take away Starbucks and I promised just to entertain her, which sounds a bit ironic to me and I just keep feeling miserable as I watch her offer me the coffee and I decline just to glance at her lips as she has a toned down red lipstick on them. I wonder how would it feel for them to clash and how would they taste.

I don’t know what to say, so she just keeps talking, sometimes pausing to look at men, but not at women, which makes me realize that just because I know that I am attracted to both genders, doesn’t mean that she is and I watch her watching them, keeping my silence as if I’m waiting to pounce. 


Like is an odd word to say that I "like" writing about social issues, it's more that I want to talk about them and this isn't my first piece about polyamory. I think it's stupid to say that everyone is 100% cis 100% straight 100% monogamous, we've all got that 1% or 45% somewhere, so yeah. Of course some people have the 100% somewhere, so yeah.

I came up with the idea while I was doing nano as I was like, ok, I'll get back to requests but what do I write and the idea of Penelope having an affair showed up in my head and only later I was like, hey I like her with Javier, so why would she hide it, why does it necessarily have to be cheating? Exactly. 

And how cheating is ok and polyamory isn't and how men being polyamourous is ok is just pretty much another thing which irritates me. 

So yeah, the story is kind of built around it and I was scared to approach it as pretty much I love them both too much and Madrid was chosen, coz frankly I love Madrid and she lived in Madrid, not sure about now, but hey it's fanfiction after all

Request terms apply, if you want a new chapter please request:3

Thank you


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