Love, passion and the sculpted jawline that landed me in trouble.
He was never anything close to average. From the moment we met sparks flew so high that we couldn’t contain our liking for each other. He was the crush and I was the crushee. A young and naive 23-year old who was smitten by a lad one year younger than she was. He didn’t look his age though, from the stern way he talked to the way he met suave with finesse. Everything he did mesmerize me. I got goosebumps each time I’d receive a call from him. Be it a hi or good night. A single message from him put me on cloud 9.
Axel was his name. Beautifully handsome with a name that matched how chiselled his jaw was. It was angular and tapering to a small V, that held his wet luscious lips. His eyes? They were a scene to behold. Delicately placed in sockets of soft lengthy lashes and a high nose to complement. His top lip was embellished with a light baby haired moustache, which grew purposely to outline his oval pink lips…
I mean, what was not to like? Especially his long, thick neck which took your eyes along the trapezium muscles that begged to rip out his white shirt. Don’t get me twisted, he was no bodybuilder. However, he had enough. Enough muscles to convince you why they say bad boys bring heaven to you. The type that formed effortlessly through hard work rather than lifting weights.
Now guess where this timeless montage was seated. Right in front of me. I was happy and his presence reminded me of how girly I was. His embrace affirmed I was a blooming woman.
However, I couldn’t shake the thoughts and feels I got whenever he picked up his phone to respond to messages that clearly didn’t come from me. I wanted to know who was on the other end. What if the people he met viewed him as I did? He made me jealous of myself. Why did he have to smile like that when he talked? Who were all these people claiming to know him?
Each time we walked through an open space all eyes were on him. I remember one time as we walked through a mall a group of girls just emerged out of nowhere and each with a purpose to hug him and justify how close they were to him. I was tolerating them obviously. However, it was the statements and the silly chuckles which adorned their snakeful ways that didn’t sit right with me.
“Say hi to your brother.” One said.
“Tell him we should catch up, and he should keep his promise.” Another tried to snatch away the conversation.
By the way are you still up for that gig this weekend? All stared up at him in unison awaiting confirmation.
Babe, you should come too. Finally, someone was kind enough to address me.
This did not lighten the situation.
After we parted ways to go home I would always be anxious. Who would call first? Should I start the conversation light, or be as random as my natural self. I was just dying to talk about us and our future together. That is if we had one.
I mean I wasn’t even sure if I was dating him. All the normal stuff a regular couple does were too complex for us. We couldn’t go out on a normal date because he was popular. We couldn’t settle on a day to meet, and if we did, he would come up with an excuse hours to the scheduled time.
Basically, I felt like I was dating myself. With each day passing our status read more of a situationship than a relationship. Was I in or out? I would ask myself. Was he my boyfriend or just friends with benefits? Was this love or fun? Everything between us felt like shades of grey.
No matter how much I wished to iron out our issues, I couldn’t get the chance nor the right words to describe the overwhelming feelings I had. I felt paranoid all the time. I would always be trying to maintain my cool since most of his recent replies would read, “Babes you’re overreacting.”
Nonetheless, what I knew for sure was that my insecurities grew as we delved deeper into our situationship.
He was a smooth operator. The man who called every girl he knew babes, then consoled me by saying it was just a friendly tag. All in the name of friendship. It was like “Babes don’t worry” would put my trust issues to rest. I guess I should’ve known better to realise I was also part of the rest.
As days went by, going online would become a battle of the senses. Between the fear of losing Axel and the anxiety caused by not knowing what he was up to, anxiety would eventually win. I became a search engine in my pursuit to confirm all the things I imagined were just in my head and not happening in real time. Each time I logged on to Axel’s timeline I just subjected myself to emotional torture and mental breakdown.
I was addicted though to the pain though. On the other hand, my auto-defence had a countermeasure too.
I am okay with the lies. As long as they were believable it was no big deal. I should consider myself lucky to have Axel in my life. I am just paranoid. Axel would have a perfect reason why someone commented on all his pictures as if they lived together.
Just like how he had when he posted a story of him holding a girl’s butt cheeks on his Instagram. It was a photoshoot and semi-nudity was the theme. What more could there be he had asked? Everyone did it. Celebrities do it all the time and people walk out of the studio no lesser strangers than they came in. He looked beautiful like he should in those 24 photos with very revealing poses. This was a huge deal for him and that is why he might’ve been so enthralled to post the picture weeks later on his gram.
“I ought to be happy about his milestones,” the conversations in my head would play out to this conclusion. Finally, I would brush over my suspicions and put the issue to rest. I would forgive him and forgive myself for doubting him.
Then months went by and there was no sight of Axel. However, he still sent very present texts after a week or two of being missing in action. Love, passion and his jaw that always overshadowed his flaws reminded me of why I should hold on. This became my cage. I was dating a smooth operator who was always texting me back each time I asked what he was up to but not looking for me.
Everyone around us knew about his plans except me. If not for Snapchat or Instagram I would not know the whereabouts of my Axel. We became strangers with each insta story and enemies with each tweet.
With captions like “would you have me for a snack?” I knew that that was no subtweet addressed to me. He was sincerely asking if anyone would have him for a snack.
I felt myself sink in a bottomless abyss. One that I couldn’t save myself from. I wanted Axel all to myself but I wasn’t enough to match up to his games. I wanted closure but then Axel pretended he didn’t even have my number. In an attempt to rekindle a flame that was fading I sent a hot text message. He replied to my text by asking, Who dis? Then it dawned on me. He was high while I was low. He was hot when I was cold. He was a bad boy, I was a good girl. He brought heaven with him, but he also came down with hell. Axel had finally enlightened me on how it felt to date a smooth operator.
The game of love continues; One night of pleasure, years of regret and secrets part 1
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