I soldiered on. Everything in my life seemed to take shape once I started things with Sonya. My mental imbalances appeared to mostly just be the stress and anguish of being a hopelessly single young person. Going to a spacious home with an actual kitchen and a backyard conducive to zen on the weekends helped me fight off the troubles of each work week and come back in on Monday refreshed and not drinking more than a couple of drinks on any given night was probably the best thing for me, mentally and physically.
So…I compromised…I let slide…whatever you want to call it. I was happy. We were happy. That was all that mattered.
Until…there’s always an until, isn’t there? Even in the happiest of stories.
This one didn’t start with booze. It started with a very sober, very thought-out and very-calm conversation with Sonya.
Sonya met me as soon as I walked in the front door of her house on a Friday night. I at first thought this was going to be one of those “talks” where I ended up driving back home in tears, but it was much the opposite. Sonya wanted to start scheduling sex on a regular basis. She was worried we were going to eventually have a problem, if we didn’t already, unless we did something. She could live with being locked up for a night every other week, she decided. I agreed. We set the next night as a lift off night.
Lift off came and went. It was amazing. Making love with someone you have been with for just the fourth time well over a year into your relationship causes you to release some unbelievable passion when you finally lock horns. I could barely walk by the time we were done.
Our lack of intoxication finally let us cuddle and bond after the deed. We laid there in bed for about an hour. I asked Sonya what would happen if she just didn’t go to sleep, but she said she didn’t want to risk it. What if she dozed off for a minute and then took off on a tear? Fair. I locked her up. I gave her a long kiss before I shut the door.
I was able to go to sleep peacefully that night. The formality of the whole thing seemed to give me security. It felt like a well-planned vacation or work activity.
I woke up to silence. I gave it a few minutes – listened for pounding from the closet. I listened for crying, growling, plead for help. I heard nothing. Just the hum of the air conditioning.