Dear Monika,

“I’ll be faithful,” I said.

And yet three months separated the next time we would have seen each other.

There had been no way to convince your dad that a 20 years old girl was already mature enough to spend some time alone with his boyfriend, to follow me as I moved to the coast to work the summer season as a hotel waiter.

I understood it, that it wasn’t your fault; you had made all the efforts, you said.

And yet we were then alone, separated by hundreds of miles. And while in the beginning we used to call each other every morning, every afternoon and every evening, by the end of the first month there was nothing more than occasional evening calls.

I thought you had realised it too, that sometimes, it just happens; that it’s impossible to explain the inexplicable.

I was feeling bad about it because I missed you a lot.

It wasn’t a sexual thing, don’t misunderstand. Not only. As every healthy “single” man in his twenties, I used to masturbate almost daily. And yes, I missed your gorgeous body, but it was more than that: I missed your smile, your sarcasm, the way you got angry every time I mentioned how beautiful you were when you kept your hair long, years ago.

And so the days went by, and with the days it grew my sense of loneliness. How were you feeling? What were you thinking? I have some ideas about that, now.

At the time, I was working my ass off all day and as such I preferred to spend almost every evening alone in the hotel, sleeping, wasted. But as our contacts rarefied, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I started to go out with the other waiters – they were used to go to the disco for one or two hours after their evening shift had ended, you knew it already – and you got jealous. I never understood why: you had never been jealous before, not so much.

I didn’t understand until I came back home, of course.  That was just a screen, a mask.

Anyway, even if it was a small touristic village, there were lots of ways to have fun. I went to the disco with the guys, I met locals and tourists. I met also a lot of girls, of course.

But I remembered my promise.

I remembered it when that tall, blonde, pretty woman pushed me on a couch in the disco and sat on me. I remembered it when she tried to kiss me, and I moved my face left and right avoiding her, telling her that “no”, even if she was that beautiful and alluring, even if – I cannot lie – dancing with her had been very exciting for me too, I had a girlfriend I loved home. I could have never done anything like that.

I remembered it when her friend, the short, thin brunette with the biggest tits I ever saw, squeezed in a top two sizes smaller than it should have been, sat near me at the bar and sneakily slid one of her hands between my legs, to touch me as I was speaking with the barman. She smiled, provocative, and I can’t say that for a moment I didn’t think about bringing her to the beach to fuck her hard. And yet I didn’t. I took her hand, I moved it away, and I told her that “no”, I couldn’t. Even if she was that hot and sexy, I could have never betrayed my love, waiting for me in the mountains, lonely, controlled by her oppressive dad.

I remembered it even when the daughter of the hotel owner came to my room, one night, and tried to have sex with me. She wasn’t that beautiful, I must admit, but when I refused her she even tried to blackmail me. You know how much I needed that job, and yet I resisted, I took my time to explain to her why I couldn’t make love to her. And I have to say it was very complicated to explain her that yes, even a single night fuck, without feelings, was betrayal. In the end, I had to finish my season a week before because I couldn’t cope with her anymore.

I did it all, I bounced all of them off. Now that I think of it, that could have been the best summer of my youth, the most sexually satisfying one for sure. Yet I bounced them off.

All to come home and, by chance, meet your dad at the supermarket.

And to think I wanted to come to the mountains the day after, to make you a surprise! Oh, what a surprise it would have been… for me. You, and that fucking bastard of your yoga trainer. Your dad was so surprised to see me: he had thought all the time you were in the mountains with me. He didn’t seem particularly happy to discover it, by the way, I’m sure that by now you have something to explain him already.

You lied to me, you betrayed me, you planned to betray me. You are a bitch.

And now that you have left me, I have to start anew. But that’s not a problem, I’m used to new beginnings. Only… only… thinking back at my summer, there is this feeling, this uneasiness I cannot get rid of.

That I hate all those moments I didn’t betray you.

Worst regards,

Your ex