Affinity for Sweets

"Did I mention I'm getting married?"

Not something one usually hears post coitus. Married? Funny, usually when you're sleeping with someone and the word married comes up, you're one of the participants. I'm trying to decide if I'm hurt, angry or stunned. All three, I guess. I pull myself up and straddle your naked body, trying to decide if this is some sort of perverse joke. Your gaze refuses to meet mine; not a good sign.

"Is this some sort of strange proposal? Because, quite frankly, it's not very romantic."

You continue to avert your gaze as a heavy sigh escapes from your body. Clumsily you grab my hands with yours; your voice has a far away quality to it.

"It's not what you think. I don't love her, but she is pregnant, and it is mine, so I have to do the right thing. I thought maybe I'd just be involved with raising the baby, without making the commitment, but I don't think that's the right thing to do."

You turn to look at me; I keep staring at you, waiting for you to smile and start giggling at my gullibility. She's pregnant, it's yours? We've been sleeping together for almost a year now, when did you find time to have sex with someone else? New emotions begin to appear; pain, grief, abandonment. I start to fidget, try to pull my hands out of yours. You push yourself up to a sitting position and wrap your arms around me. I feel your breath on my face as you bury your head in my hair.

"It won't change any thing between us. I love you, that will never change. We can still be together. It's just one of those little idiosyncrasies you put up with when you love someone, when you're part of a couple. Like an affinity for sweets."

Are you kidding me? You having sex with another woman, having a baby with another woman, marrying another woman, is not on the same level as having a constant craving for sugary treats. I want to cry, want to scream, want to punch your face in. I can feel your hands on me, hear your words in my ears, but nothing seems to reach me. Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick. Which is something that has been happening a lot the last few mornings.

My body begins to shake as the tears finally appear. I begin to pull at your hair and bite at your neck as you start to rock me back and forth, whispering words of comfort.

"We'll be ok, I promise. Don't cry. I love you. You said you had something to tell me. What is it, darling?"