Who am I kidding? I miss you.

After a silent evening your DM popped up. A stormy Saturday, I was alone, writing. Our week long Twitter affair had filled me with a warmth that sustained in your absence. You were probably in a bar with friends, or out meeting girls like I suggested you should.  Soon after your miss-you, we were back to fifty Twitter messages per hour, waving back and forth. Around midnight I went to bed, ritually hugging the phone close to me for our final messages. You spooning up behind me, virtually. Your fingers were exploring every part of me, and I pressed my thighs together. My hands kept typing on the small cell phone.
“ I consider writing you a long email, explaining why I don’t want sex,”
Real life was closing in around us.

You’re not getting a kiss out of me, you man-eater!
But you laughed when I kissed a married man, the same day you and I met online.
You can recognize me by my funny hat.
The most unlikely banker in whole Amsterdam.
Half an hour early? Great! More time for sex!
Your flirting was infectious. For reasons I cannot remember I showed you a small can with two emergency condoms (you insisted that we would now have to use them) and we talked about pubic hair. You didn’t know shaving it was an Islamic habit.
“ But does it stop growing, at some point?” you asked.

I was firm when I concluded there was no physical attraction. Rude when I said I liked smooth-young not  beard-young.  You hugged me goodbye, and gave me three kisses, the way we Dutch do. I asked if I could still sex-text you at night.
“ I was kind of hoping you would.”
The man I had not been physically attracted to, stayed in my email inbox, on Twitter DM, and we  sms-texted that stormy Saturday.
“ Go to the city and meet some real women,”  I said. “ I have nothing more to offer than a hug.”
There was no jealousy when you took my advice.

No I don’t know why you’re not attracted to me.  I just know that I like to wake up with your DM. I like sharing exciting/funny/scary things with you the moment it happens. Okay that sounds lame right?

No Berke, it doesn’t sound lame. Because that’s exactly how I feel when I wake up, and what I share. It’s because of you, that I am completely comfortable being alone on a Saturday night. And I’m enjoying our affair, even though I can see how it’s crippled by my lack of feelings.

God is cruel. Allah is cruel. Or maybe I’m just a self-centered person who has physically shared herself with one man too many when she wasn’t in love. Not really in love.

It’s hug day! I m going to have to hug you all day! Shall I come over?

Your DM. Just now. I delete a paragraph of this blog, erase all written proof why you and I are never going to happen. I remove the honesty that could make you take back your proposal, or otherwise turn you away from me.

“ I would completely love that!” I reply.

Yes it is me. I am a cruel person.