Coco

Sometimes I struggle to remember details of certain events regarding relationships. It's a foggy mess up there. But I do have one very vivid memory, an image I made sure never to forget. A beautiful image attached to a beautiful person, at a not-so-great time in my life.

I remember sitting on the sand on my beach towel. It was an early afternoon in Summer and we were at a local swimming hole. Coco was standing in the shallows at the water's edge, facing the sun as he looked out over the bay. I gazed up at him blocking the sun so I could just see his figure. My eyes drank it in an I had a sudden flood of thoughts and emotions.

He looked so damn good. Aesthetically perfect in my eyes, handsome face with chiselled features, deep-set eyes full of intensity and intelligence. Lips I could kiss for days. Incredible, fit body wrapped in the most delicious dark skin, the sun highlighting the edges of his muscles. I still couldn't understand how someone so impressive ended up in my lap. In that moment, he was breathtaking to look at.

He was quiet, not the weird quiet that makes me wary, but the mysterious quiet that made me a little nervous as I would watch him analyse and think. A strong quiet. But there was also a shyness he had around me that I never understood. Every inch of my body would be tingling with excitement and my heart would race and flutter, yet he had a gentle kindness that made me feel calm, safe, completely unsure, and silly like a teenage girl. I always admired how intelligent he was, not that he seemed to think so, but his creativity and ambition said otherwise. He seemed wise beyond his years and always had the words I needed to hear most. But his smile, that big happy smile, that lit up my world. It always came with this slight half-laugh that quickly became my favourite thing about him.

I realised all at once at that moment what I had. Everything I wanted, more than I expected, better than I ever could have imagined. So why did this long-awaited day together in such a beautiful setting feel so wrong?

We met online, no not THAT online, but through good ol' Instagram suggesting friends to him. He said hi one day, we chatted, that was that. He messaged me again a couple of weeks later, we chatted again. He seemed quite nice, but who knows with randoms online, could be anyone. We chatted on and off for a few more weeks until one day I just downloaded a whole stack of stuff on him. I was having a super shit day, mixed in with a shit time in general, so when he started reassuring me I could open up to him, I just let it all out! Everything. I didn't even know this person, yet the venting was such a relief. I was grateful that he was so understanding about my situation, encouraging me and offering extremely helpful advice. I felt comfortable with this person even though I didn't know them at all. From then on, we messaged a lot, until one day he offered to call me on his lunch break so we could meet on a new level. And no! Before you start thinking this is a catfish story, spoiler alert, it ain't. Sorry to disappoint.

We were so excited to talk to each other and conversation was effortless. As it went on the electricity in the air became stronger and stronger, until he finally said

"Is it just me, or is there heaps of chemistry here?"

"Yeah there is so much!" I giggled

There WAS. It was intoxicating. I was feeling every possible chemical reaction coursing through my entire being and I had no bloody clue how to deal with it. All I knew was this person had shone a light into my dark little world. I wanted to know him more. I nicknamed him Coco.

The next day he called me on FaceTime, and it was the same excitement and chemistry all over again. He was exactly who he said he was, the face in his photos, the voice over the phone, insanely attractive. You know those people who have a smile that lights up the atmosphere around them, it's full of warmth and happiness that spreads to anyone within reach? He had that smile. It was the first thing I noticed about him, and the first thing I loved. We had a shy but excited conversation with a whole lot of flirting. The chat was hard to end and left so much yearning.

Every single day we texted and called, all day long. We couldn't get enough of each other. Our connection was so strong and grew with every interaction. He was all I could think about. Nights were off-limits when it came to phone calls, we even had to be careful with how much we texted. You see, our love was a dangerous game at the time. Our families had expectations from us that we had no desire to be a part of. He was in an arranged engagement that had ended, but he had not yet told his family. I was in a similar situation by where I had expectations to stay within a relationship they had chosen for me, and I was miserable. Perhaps the secrecy made our desire stronger, the element of danger fueled our lust, or maybe the restrictions we were under gave us a shared ground. Either way, taboo or not, we were unable to resist each other any longer. So we decided to meet.

One night, in the dark of winter, we met under the stars. I had suggested a park near my house and told my family I was going to my girlfriends' house. It was freezing cold, but I was too distracted to feel it. I got out of the car and looked around but couldn't see him. Fuck I was nervous. I was shaking head to toe, I honestly thought I was going to throw up. My mind was racing, "What if he stood me up? What if I had just walked into a bad situation? What if he bailed when he saw me? What the fuck am I doing!!???"

Then he melted out of the dark like a shadow. Tall, dark skin, black clothes, that beautiful smile.

"I'm so fucked."

I felt safe, but by this point, my body was still shaking. Shy first hug, we didn't know what to say so we walked around the park, hugged, held hands, tried to hide our nerves. It's all pretty cute now I reflect on it. We knew we shouldn't be there, we knew we shouldn't touch and deepen our feelings, we knew we shouldn't be together, we knew we were playing with fire. It didn't matter. Our connection was too strong and all we cared about was being around each other, at all costs. I was so determined not to kiss him, in my mind if we avoided physical contact it would be easier to be 'friends' and therefore not break any rules. Pfftt, that lasted all of half an hour. As we were strolling he abruptly stopped, turned to face me, ran his hands up the small of my back and pulled me into him hard. I was standing there with shakey legs and my heart racing, feeling his body pressed up against mine, and the restraint in his arms as he tried to fight himself. I realised I had never felt this way about another human being. I had never wanted anyone with so much honesty and sincerity. I had never felt my body so electric when being touched. We knew we couldn't kiss, but our bodies didn't give a shit about rules. I grabbed his jumper and pulled him in closer, our hands were all over each other, his lips down my neck, hands over my body and in my hair, mine up his shirt and over his chest. It was the most intense non-kiss I have ever experienced in my life, a ferocious half a minute that set the atmosphere on fire around us. The night grew more intense and the touching went further and further until curiosity got the better of me. With an overconfident flirtatious move, I asked to see his dick. He gave me a shy questioning smile, unzipped his fly and kinda went, "There, that's it." I asked to touch it. He gave me that shy laugh again and agreed. Wow. Long, hard and warm, it happily rested in my hand, it was delicious. There was no way I wanted to let go of such a perfect thing, I had a thousand carnal thoughts rushing through my head. I knew I was doing something wrong, but it felt so damn good. I tried to squash my lust before it got the better of me and quickly let go.

"It's not fair that you get to see mine and I don't get to see your's," he said in a deep, seductive voice. I melted, how could I say no to that. I excitedly watched as he scanned over me, planning his next move, or maybe carefully reminding himself to have restraint, whatever was going on in his mind it was sexy to watch. He slid his fingers slowly down the front of my pants, savouring every moment, then lost all remains of self-control and pushed them deep inside. I think I stopped breathing. 20 seconds of seductive torture.

It came time for us to part ways and I struggled so much to fight back the tears. What if I never saw him again?? As he said goodbye I leant over and softly kissed his beautiful lips; I just wanted a taste, to be sure the connection was real. I read once that within the first kiss, a woman knows if she is interested in a man or not. Instantly our gut tells us what our heads and hearts ignore. The moment I touched his lips I felt at home. According to him, my kiss was lame, still makes me laugh about our opposite perspectives because to me it was a perfect moment I'll never forget. Pffftt, he can keep his 'lame.'

After that, I ended my relationship, which made my life with my family extremely hard. There was a lot of pressure and judgement. It was stressful, but I didn't care, I just wanted Coco, my little secret.

Nothing slowed down from then on. We spoke every day, I would wake up every morning with a sweet message to have a nice day. It gave me the warm fuzzies and I looked forward to it. We saw each other any possible time we could, at the park, our 'spot.' Sometimes when my parents were away, I would sneak him into my house in the car. We were like teenagers, it's pretty funny but fuck we were risking a lot!

The first time we had sex was at my house. It wasn't the romantic fairytale that I had hoped for. Instead, it was awkward and somewhat forced. I just wanted him, but I never stopped to ask him how he felt about sex and where he was at with it. I knew he wanted me too, so I played on that with all the selfish intentions in the world. He wasn't ready for sex but he tried to hide his discomfort and act like the strong man I wanted him to be, or he thought he should be. Maybe he didn't want to push me away or disappoint me? Maybe he was embarrassed? We did it, it wasn't working out well, we stopped, we agreed not to do it again and wait a while. Later on, he told me I was the first person he had been with since his ex, no wonder the poor guy was nervous. He was with her for over a decade.

The decision to hold off started to worry me again. What if we slowed our momentum and we had ruined things? What if he lost interest or I spooked him? Turns out it was the best decision we ever made.

One night I snuck out and we went for a drive. The only destination I had in mind was a deserted car park where we could get some privacy, which I found pretty quickly. What happened next was one of the most memorable nights of my life. We were in the back seat of my car, we didn't have sex, but we did every other thing possible. For hours! We could not get enough of each other, every moment fueled more lust and chemistry. I felt more alive than I ever had, my body felt more pleasure than I ever imagined, and I felt more trust and comfortability then I ever thought possible. It was the sexiest and hottest sexual experience of my life. Although it was early days I knew this person and our connection was special. I knew I was in love. Such an intimate experience created a deep bond that I treasured beyond anything else.

Fiiiinnaallllyyyyy we had sex! Wooo. We organised a day when we could have the house to ourselves, and he took the day off work to see me. And it was on, crazy intense crazy sex that was so fucking worth the wait. We were having such a great day until he started to act a little strange. He said he had to leave and help a family member with something. I couldn't believe it. He had the day off work to spend with me yet suddenly he had plans for his afternoon? I felt hurt, lied to, confused. What had I done wrong? He kept denying anything was wrong but my gut was telling me otherwise. I tried to coax the truth out of him without looking like I was jealous or insecure, I tried to believe what he said over my gut churning, but it just brought more confusion. I did everything I could to get him to stay longer but he kept insisting he had somewhere to be. So I let him leave, feeling gutted.

This started to happen more frequently, the gaps in his stories, the chopping and changing of what he said or things he said he would do, the avoiding of my calls and texts with convenient excuses. He started to drag out the time between contact when it came to making plans and it got more and more stressful. It brought out a needy side in me that I didn't like. I didn't understand what was happening or how to handle it. It all created a massive chunk of doubt that planted itself right in my chest. I carried it around and it grew heavier and heavier, hurting the more I tried to ignore the truth and force myself to believe his words over his actions.

Then things went to shit. I went on holiday. I couldn't get in contact with him, I could barely get him to respond to me, I couldn't understand why he was so distant. All I wanted was the truth; no matter what it did to me, I just wanted answers. I got back from holiday, still no change in his behaviour. It fucked me up big time. I felt like such a gullible, naive, STUPID girl who fell for a guys crap just to get what he wanted. I was so fucking angry and it took me to a 'fuck it' state of mind. He finally started responding to my messages again, but it was too late, I had created a Tinder account and I was out for one thing only... sex. Fuck love, fuck commitment, fuck people, fuck Coco. Fuck everyone. I found an appropriate guy, had a good time, he left. No love, no feelings, just some good sex and good conversation. A positive experience I was happy I had. But then came the guilt, I felt like I had cheated on Coco (even though we were both very single) and it began to eat me up on the inside. After a couple of weeks of self-bashing and mental torment, I called him up and confessed. I had made myself believe I had to answer to him. He was hurt, like, really hurt, angry with me. I couldn't see why. I was single, he made sure I knew that. I could do whatever I wanted, right? This was all his fault.

Then things got even worse, I left the city. I decided to pack up and start a new life in a town hours away, and I didn't tell him. I just left. I had tried over and over to call him and tell him. I had sent a million texts desperately asking to see him, with no reply. Do you know what's worse than someone giving you bad news? Someone you love ignoring you entirely. It's like a subtle form of emotional abuse, especially when you KNOW they see their phone a million times a day and have no excuses to not see your contact efforts. It hurt on top of the other hurt. The decision to make a fresh start didn't come easily. I had thought it over and over until one day in the shower I finally admitted to myself that I needed to leave and that staying around for Coco wouldn't solve my problems. I sat on the shower floor, crippled with heartache, and sobbed for almost an hour. The pain of leaving him behind hurt more than anything I had ever experienced. I was terrified to lose him and even more terrified to give up my chance of ever being with him. But the way we were at the time was making me miserable. My life at that time was making me miserable. I had to choose myself first.

I didn't hear back from him until I was settled into my new home. It upset me so much. I didn't understand why he was keeping so much distance, had I been played? When we spoke, he tried to express his upset of me leaving, but I didn't want to hear it because all it sounded like to me was that I was to blame for everything. I blamed him for my upset, for my sadness, for the shit lump in my throat I felt every time I thought about him. I tried so hard to understand but I just didn't know what I was to him anymore.

It was like we circled in a storm of emotions and confusion, trying to find a way to be together, and trying to let the other be their free, single selves. I had a friend in my new home, someone I had known my entire life and cared about a lot. Whenever we saw each other and were single we would hook up. I felt so alone and sad and worried without the person I truly wanted and was searching for any way to distract myself. I told Coco I wanted to see this friend who had offered to catch up, I honestly explained our situation and how we interacted with each other and our usual hook-up behaviour. He encouraged me to see him. Well ok, his words were, "You are free to do whatever you want, you can see him, it's totally up to you." I call this baiting. Setting me a test to see if I failed. To me, he kept encouraging me and telling me to go for it if I wanted to. So I did. What else was I doing with my time, what could happen if we even had a chance to be together, I was single, right? So I did it, caught up with my friend for some 'action' and it was great. I felt like I had taken charge of my single life and that I was independent and free. Yet I felt guilty like I was still Coco's, and that I had cheated. He texted me the whole time beforehand, and straight after making me feel like I cheated. "You HAD the choice, and you chose him, you made that choice and it was wrong, shows how you feel about me."

Needless to say, I was lost and miserable again. We kept in contact but it was messy and consisted of me trying to get in touch with him until I probably looked so needy and annoying.

I travelled back to the city for Xmas, and I just couldn't wait to see my Coco. He was still being hard to make plans with but reassured we would see each other. After Xmas was my birthday. A close friend of mine demanded to see me for my birthday and was, in general, being a total shitty friend (that's another story). He rocked up with one of his mates, Rory, and offered him up to me as birthday sex. Seeing my obvious discomfort by being bluntly and rudely 'given' to a man I'd never even met, Rory smoothed over the situation and eased my building temper as our friend continued to behave like a sexist pig. I told them to leave, grateful for him at least bringing with him a decent person so my night wasn't a total disaster. But what my friend had done that night was disgusting, and my birthday ended up totally fucked. Feeling like everything in my life was becoming a shitty mess, I began to spiral. I found Rory on Facebook and messaged him. We made plans for him to come over, and, back to my sneaky shitty ways, we snuck him into my room and hooked up. It was kind of fun, like teenagers even though we were both in our 30s. It wasn't life-changing sex, we got along well but it was pretty much your standard 'root.' The best part of it was our discussion on our mutual friend and how we should deal with the situation. He helped me with advice on a lot of issues I had going on at the time.

Fiiiiinally I got to see Coco. I quickly arranged a shitty cheap motel room close to where I was staying and met him there. The whole time it was awkward, something was 'off' and I didn't know how to fix it. He kept saying how he wasn't bothered by me hooking up with other guys and I was allowed to do what I wanted, but his body language and entire vibe said otherwise. I didn't know how to explain my actions. I didn't know how to tell him how much I loved him. I didn't know how to clear the air. The whole event felt seedy and heavy. We talked and I got upset, we eventually had sex. I don't know if it was because we were trying to fix things, or if we figured we may as well, but it wasn't right the whole time. A couple of hours later we left, the guy at the reception/bar clearly knew why we were there, although he probably thought it was an affair and not because I was staying at my Great Aunts, which still makes me laugh. When we parted ways he promised everything was ok, but the moment he drove away, I burst into tears uncontrollably. I knew I had fucked up yet I was so confused. Was I being set up again? A few days later Coco told me he had been taken to a swingers club once, and that he wanted to go back and experience it with me. I looked it up and it was very classy. I wanted so badly to impress him, to experience something new with him, to melt into his life and make him want me. My gut would churn and my heart hurt just thinking of being in that club with him. I couldn't bring myself to do that. Not for him, not for myself, not in general. I entertained the idea, wishing I would come around to it, but I just couldn't. I didn't want to see other people on him, I didn't want other guys on me. I only wanted him.

We arranged to see each other again that week, which leads us back to the start of this story, at the bay swimming, him almost forcing himself to be around me, and me just wondering endlessly what the hell to do. I adored him so much, but our relationship was damaged. I went back home after New Years, missing him like crazy.

For the next year we went back and forth with trying to be together, yet single. Trying to be friends. Trying to cut each other from our lives. We were up and down all the time, it was so hurtful and stressful. There was lots of anger and blame. I guess that's the side effect of pain and loss when you desperately love someone. I found it easier just to blame him for everything. He kept saying he was going to come to town and visit me. "In two weeks" he insisted. I always forced myself to believe him, and I was always disappointed when he would disappear again, or keep changing plans. I just felt played and lied to and so dam unimportant. The confusion was worse than the gaslighting and emotional torment, but the connection we had seemed so real at the start that I would struggle constantly with letting that fade to nothing. I had on and off boyfriends and when we randomly spoke now and then, he always seemed encouraging about them. It always made me wonder if he really loved me in the first place, or if he loved me enough to set me free. The time between random messages of phone calls became longer and longer in-between with less and less for us to talk about. We had a few arguments, some bad. A few times I would completely block him on social media in a last-ditch effort to delete him and all the upset that came with him. I always ended up crawling back. A couple of times I deleted his phone number. We always found a way back to each other though. A few times more he said he was heading down my way, a few times more he would be unable to be reached and I never saw him. Eighteen months went by.

Eighteen months later and he phoned me one night. He told me he was dating a lesbian couple. I felt a massive jolt of fear shoot through my chest. That was it, I would never stand a chance of ever being with him again. Why the hell would he want me when he had two hot chicks all over him. All my insecurity came back, all the hurt came back. I had lost him. Even though I was with someone at the time, who I was deeply in love with, I was sad for days and feeling guilty on top of that. I played it off like I was impressed with his self-growth and his endeavour to experience sexual relationships of different kinds. That was, after all, what he had wanted but couldn't do if he was dating me.

Six months later I saw Coco's business come up on my social media. I messaged him, we chatted. I had left my partner and was currently living at home between moving back to the city where he lived. We agreed we should catch up, but mistrust still lurked in the back of my mind. Could I trust him? Had he changed or had I changed enough to be better people? Would we get along? Would he hurt me again? I knew I was sticking my hand close to the flame again, but I just wanted to know, who was he now?

I applaud you for reading this far, it is a long story, but significant times call for such detail. I bet you're wondering where this ends, yeah?

I've been in the city for three months. Initially, when I got here we were back and forth over the idea of being fuck buddies. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Not only was I having trouble settling in my new home, but I knew that, deep down, there was something unresolved with him that made using each other for sex just plain wrong. I respected the love we had too much. On the other side of that, so much toxic shit had happened between us that I wondered if I was able to move on from it all and heal the hurt.

A few times I caved and told him to come and see me, then backed out of it again. I set myself a goal of one month before I would see him in person, which gave us a few weeks of phone sex (now THAT was hot!!).

I called my best friend one day, asking if I should see him or not. I told her how anxious I was but she insisted that I should have a go and see what happens because I had always had a soft spot for him. She helped me pick an outfit (no way after two years was I going to look anything less than hot as fuck!!). As I stood on my driveway waiting for him, I realised I was so excited to see him. I thought I was going to throw up with nerves (again), but I was happy. He came walking over to me with that huge, beautiful smile I loved so damn much, the same man I knew, yet completely different. So calm and happy, not the person hiding things that I once knew.

"Hey, Nila."

He gave me the hugest, most sincere hug he's ever given me.

I melted, again. I was useless, again. A nuclear missile could have hit my house and I wouldn't have even noticed. I was nervous, jittery, talking so much shit like an idiot to fill the silence, but so happy! The moment we got into my room it was flirty and nervous tension in the air, he looked so bloody handsome, seriously sexy, like... no words. I put a movie on and we kind of tested the waters to see where the other was at with little jokes and touches. After a bit, he seemed to go "fuck this" and kissed me hard. Dayum, he was still the most amazing kisser I have ever been with (and I'd kissed a few people in those two years), I never wanted it to end. We had amazing sex, fucking like crazy. But the best part is that after all this time, the feelings were still there, the 'love' for lack of a better word, and it felt amazing to look into his eyes and see the person I had loved all that time ago was looking right back at me the same way.

The last few weeks have been like this, hanging out, hot sex, company, and getting to know the other properly from square one.

And that's where the story ends. We agreed that we were spending time together in hopes we would end up dating in due time. Our lives are both extremely full for now. But he has been true to me. Always responding to my calls and texts, sticking to plans, and just generally being himself around me. And I have been doing my all to do the same with him. To show him respect, and not to make him my sole focus in life, but rather myself first.

When we're together, It's like a deep secure understanding of the other, but learning a new person at the same time. I still absolutely adore him.

Stay tuned, I may just have more to write about with this one, my Coco.