“She’s a lover, baby and a fighter. Should've seen it coming when I got a little brighter”
For a woman who’s been in and out of somewhat long-term relationships since she was 16 (I am now 31, in a 7-years-and-counting relationship), I’ve had a handful of notable (and some not so notable, why not mentioned here) lovers. A few one night stands, but mostly lovers. In 2016, while healing through a breakup in my quarter life crisis, I had 3 lovers at the same time, which would’ve been fine had I not decided to take two Australian lovers, one a filmmaker and another, a musician, who happened to be friends. It’s all water under the bridge by now. I liked the idea of lovers because I liked the idea of un-attached physical intimacy with sparks of intellectual or artistic exchange. I found, that in a relationship I tended to leave my body and sense of self, until I had completely merged into my partner, becoming a simulation of them.
I was at no risk of losing myself to a lover.
I met my first boyfriend when I was 16, and he was 24. He liked laced up Ann Demeulemeester boots and Rick Owen layers and he liked that I liked Bertolucci movies and poetry. Soon after I wore mostly black layers on top of my black tights. My initial innocent love for poetry and movies, now became a token of intellectual property — his.
I almost cheated on my first boyfriend with my second boyfriend, whom I met backstage at a mens fashion show in Milan. A couple of months prior, I had broken up with my then-boyfriend, only to fall back into the slipstream of our relationship because he had got a nervous breakdown when I decided to leave him. My friend called me from the hospital, “It’s not looking good, Amanda.”
I’d just started High School.
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