Anna (Epilogue)


I became tense if she would take a little too long to reply to one of my messages or not answer the phone on the first ring. There was a large danger I was being so needy that she would get turned off, so I did my best to hold back attention and busy myself with other tasks, even though I desired validation that I made the correct choice in staying. I almost wanted a guarantee from her that she would show up on bi-weekly dates for the next month.

Once I got settled back into my own routine, the anxiety subsided. The novelty of sex decreased and my emotions became controllable. She began to show me so much affection that I couldn’t possibly match hers if I tried. The power of the relationship shifted into my corner, never to leave again. I was safe.

Our relationship was very typical. We’d talk nearly every day, if not on the phone than at least by text. She’d tell me about her day and I would tell her about mine. A couple times a week we’d meet, either going out to eat or her coming over. We’d go for walks, we’d relax in bed, she’d help me with Russian, I’d help her with English. I learned she was comically authoritarian in the kitchen when cooking, directing me like I was the help, but once in bed I was able to treat her body like my own personal sex device. 

She worked to keep the sex exciting. I remember the rainy night when I told her to come over and “dress sexy.” She arrived in a rain coat and heels. Underneath the coat was just her bra and panties. I ravaged her immediately, feeling blessed that I had met a girl who took such effort to please me.

Besides the sexual, we were extremely compatible with each other, approaching a level of mind reading that long-term couples often achieve. One day without being in touch with her felt strange, and hearing her voice on the phone would give me a little dose of happiness, but as I tried to set up the logistics for living long-term in Odessa, like taking Russian classes or searching for a more suitable apartment, I would procrastinate and not follow through. I knew what that meant.

I couldn’t understand it. She was cooking for me, buying me things, fucking my brains out, and saying such sweet things. She was everything on my list—everything. If I asked god for my ideal woman, Anna would appear. I knew in my soul that I couldn’t do much better than her, and that I could approach 5,000 women and not meet a girl who would surpass her, but by the fourth week of our relationship, I was bored. I felt that I needed more variety and excitement. I needed to be back in the game. I needed to go to Poland. I didn’t want to stay more than the one extra month.

After we said our sad goodbyes and I was back in the Polish city of Wroclaw, the variety didn’t appeal to me like it did in the past. Polish girls weren’t nearly as pretty as I remembered them, and for the first three days I couldn’t even spot one anywhere that was more beautiful than Anna. I felt that I was watching an old movie I had already seen many times before, and that Anna easily provided me with more happiness than Wroclaw could. I started to think about what change had happened to me, because a city that I attacked with all my energy two years prior seemed to have nothing for me now. It was too early to know for sure, but I had to accept that I may have made a big mistake in leaving my Anna.

Read Next: Anna (One Year Later)

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