Greg, Gas Station, Buddhism

I have no idea how this world works. Nor have I any understanding about people’s ways of thinking, and how they behave. I gave up creating illusions about others and myself long ago, since the more sand castles I build in my mind, the more painful it is when the dreams crash against the reality.
I gave up trying to predict other’s actions since it is a mere waste of time and health. Thinking too much about the future that is not here yet, basing my expectations on the past experiences always led me nowhere. So I gave up trying.
Stupid books on how to get the man of your dreams were thrown into my waste basket. I am way too grown up for manipulative games that, anyways, make no sense. Feeling free from the societal convictions about traditional relationships, monogamy, commitments to stay in marriage is what I finally acquired after years of personal mistakes and traumas.
Greg is the only attachment that I was struggling to let go. I kept holding on to the illusion that he should be back, but finally I allowed myself to relax and accept the reality the way it is.
I was at the gas station ready to vacuum-clean my vehicle, when Greg texted me:
“I want you. I have wanted you since the first time we met. I just can’t get you to stay interested.”
Hmm, here we go. Sounds like Emy is away, or she is withholding sex, and I would never blame her. Living with a creature like Greg must be a never-ending yo-yo, draining, depressing, frustrating.
His next text: When shall we see each other again? – My whole perception of the world went upside down within seconds. The gas station seemed to turn their heads at my loud laughter. Everything upturned: the sky, the clouds, the old public vacuum cleaner, the wet asphalt, and dirty tires of passing vehicles. Even muggy Florida air got refreshingly transparent. He is back, thank you Universe, thank you God, thank you, thank you, thank you
My previous detachment convictions collapsed, I am attached and addicted, and I do not care.
On my way home, I got a phone call from his assistant.
–           Dr. C. wants to know your availability this week.  
–           Tell him to go to hell
–           Excuse me? – she seemed to be shocked, and I could care less. Her employer is rude to a fault, why should his women be different.  – He is asking when you are available this week…
–           Tell him to leave me alone – I hung up on her, I was mean, but it is her choice to swallow disrespect with a smile for 15 bucks an hour.
His Audi was in my parking spot, he was waiting outside, quiet, introverted, toxic. I unlocked the front door and let him in.
–            I want to claim your pussy as mine   
–           My body belongs to me, my dear
–           You misunderstand me… – he had that pit-bull look, scary and mesmerizing – You mind, your body, your spirit, and even your pussy of course belong to you, but when it comes to your pussy and sex I want to be the only man there, the only man touching, kissing, licking, and fucking you, that’s what I mean claiming your pussy
–           I did not invite you, Greg
–           Deep down inside you feel me, Vixen…
My Buddhist non-attachment philosophy does not work around him, he is back again, and I am in love like a cat in heat.

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