Life Ain't A Fairy Tale

by Miguel Rivera

  "Look, guys. I am having a hard time with my girlfriend, now." Alex commented his problem to the other two guys.

  "Really? What's up?" Bruce asked.

  "Her mother passed away, and she has been in this deep sadness that I just can't get her out of."

  "You got to understand that a mother is a very important person. Seems pretty normal to me." Clark tried to put things in perspective.

  "I feel hopeless. I want her to go out and have fun. In every conversation, she breaks down in tears. I am starting to get depressed. This isn't the girl I fell in love with madly."

  "I saw how this girl changed your life. I have seen the joy she brought to you. She is going through the most difficult thing a person can ever go through. My cousin went through something similar with her grandma's death. You have to be there for her, dude." Bruce advised Alex.

  "I don't know. This is hard for me. To see her cry tortures me, and I can't do anything to fix it. Maybe, I am not the guy for her."

  "This isn't about fixing a problem, Alex. Sometimes in life, there aren't any solutions. Your girl needs you more than ever. The best thing to do is to be with her. Stand by her side. This is not something you have to fix, Alex. You only have to keep her company. Your companionship will help her bear the burden. Now, if you don't love the girl, I guess dumping her is the option. That is not the vibe I'm getting from you. I know you love this girl a lot." Clark advised Alex.

  "Yeah. I see what you mean, Clark. I do love this girl a lot. She is very special to me. There are so many things in this world that can't be fixed. I'm being too impatient, man. It's only been 4 months since her mother died. I will stop forcing and pressuring her to go out, but I will keep her company and make her feel as calm as she needs to be. This isn't about me; this is about her. That has been my mistake all along." Alex became resolute. He changed his view of the situation. He will help his girlfriend.

  It is amazing how open Alex was with his friends. This is in stark contrast to how I relate to my friends. That is something I will never do. Quite frankly, I don't think anyone would even care how I feel. Bruce and Clark are different from Luis, Juan, or Justin. Bruce and Clark gave Alex good advice too. My mother went through the exact same thing when many of her family members passed away. Death is very difficult to accept. I can imagine what kind of advice I my friends would give me. They would say something stupid like advise me that she needs more sex.

  After a long day's work, Sara picks me up at the college, and we will talk about what happened during the day. I am a person who does not like to talk much about work. This is something very difficult for my parents to understand. I imagine it will be hard for Sara as well. After I came back from school when I was young, my parents would ask how my day was to receive my response of "fine," "good," or "okay." Sara won't be happy with my short answers either. Also, she will probably give me a very long synopsis of her work today.

  "How was your day, Jimmy?"

  "It was fine. It went well today."

  "Nothing special happened today?"

  "No. All I did was tutor students about Biology and Math stuff. I helped them study."

  "What kind of questions they ask?"

  "The usual questions kids ask; cell division, solving for x, and stuff. How was your day, Sara?"

  "Okay. I had a hard day. The HPLC-MS/MS instrument that Chad operates was not working properly. I am Chad's supervisor, and I have another supervisor that I report to concerning the MS analysis of the experimental medicine being taken by cancer patients. I spent a good portion of the morning trying to fix it, and making sure it was working properly. I helped Chad test it with known compounds. Lucky for me, I managed to fix it because there was a deadline in analyzing the experimental medicine used in cancer patients during their clinical trials. I spent the day working with Chad to analyze the medicine's MS spectra." I must admit she kept on talking further about everything she did, but I zoned out. Unfortunately, I got lost in the complexity of the medicine's different metabolites, the medicine's active ingredient, the level of toxicity, and the electronic lab notebook where she reports everything to the lead principal scientists supervising her.

  We stop at a restaurant. We are taking out an order of chicken, rice, and mashed potatoes. During the morning, she previously asked me what kind of food I like for dinner. I told her chicken and rice. She knew beforehand of this restaurant that has this kind of food.

  When we arrive home, I am startled to hear that we have to clean the house. Yes. I have to help her clean the entire house on both floors. This is so unnecessary. Cleaning the house should be left to once every two weeks. I wanted to watch TV and relax like I normally did.

  "Clean everything? When is the last time the house was cleaned, Sara?"

  "Last Saturday, I cleaned the house. Sunday, I spent the whole day at Gina's apartment. The house needs to be cleaned." Sara insists with a serious and determined look on her face as I playfully hug and give her cheek multiple kisses.

  "You cleaned last Saturday? We can skip today."

  "No. We are going to start cleaning right now."

  "We?" I could not get her to postpone the cleaning. I keep harassing her with kisses on the cheek as she turns her face away from me.

  "Yes. It will be much easier and faster between the two of us." Sara goes for the brooms and mops in the closet as I follow her around with my hands on her hips.

  "Aren't we going to relax for an hour or two? I am tired." I sit down on the couch. I need to take a breather.

  "You are tired. Are you serious? You did not do anything today." Sara looks irritated. She dislikes my unwillingness to clean today.

  "Yes. I did do something. I spent the whole day tutoring people." I defend myself in a losing battle.

  "Yeah? So what? You sat there the whole day. You didn't do any physical activity. You should be ready to roll." Sara's frustration increases. I don't understand how she has the energy to even want to clean the entire house. Especially after the rough day she described to me.

  "Look. You had a hard day at work today. You told me the HPLC-MS/MS instrument was not working, and you had to fix it. Aren't you tired? Let's relax today and recover for tomorrow." I signal her to sit down on the couch.

  "No. We have to do it now. Grab a broom. I will clean the second floor while you clean the first floor."

  "Sara. Are you serious?" I start laughing. She will not budge on postponing cleaning the house.

  "Do you see me laughing, Jimmy? No. Let's go." Sara grabs me by the arms. She drags me away from the couch.

  "I did not know you were obsessed with cleaning." I stretch my legs out to sweep.

  "I did imagine you would start complaining. You are used to doing nothing. Why are you stretching? All you are going to do is sweep the floor." Sara looks at me shocked. Her hands are on her waist.

  "I am injury prone. I got a terrible back pain once for not stretching. Better safe than to be sorry. We can postpone the cleaning for tomorrow. It is not like anyone is going to visit us these days." This is my last pitch to prevent this madness.

  "Are you going to help or not?" Sara rolls her eyes at me.

  "Okay. Give me the broom." I extend my hand to receive the broom.

  "The broom is right behind you. Are you blind?" Sara walks past by me. My lips are puckered up, and she doesn't even kiss them. She gets her broom and walks upstairs to start cleaning.

  I am obligated to clean the floor. It upsets me that I have to sweep the floor. There are good TV shows on now. Later, there will be prowrestling. I won't see any of them now. Watching TV is the highlight of my day. I sweep the dust from all corners of the first floor and place it all together. I am sweating and hot. I search for the dustpan and don't find it. Since I am desperate to sit back down, I pick up the dust with my hands. I place it in the garbage can.

  As I sit down on the couch and watch TV, Sara asks me, "Wow, are you done already? Even with mopping?"

  "Mopping? No, I just swept the floor
with the broom."

  "What? Get back up again. Here's the mop and the bucket filled with water."

  I get back up again to mop the floor. My hands, arms, legs, and shoulders are feeling strained from the sweeping I did previously. I am too embarrassed to tell her that. I keep the pain to myself. I carry the bucket around to keep it near me. Every part of the floor is wet and clean after my mopping session.

  After I am done, Sara gives me a small cloth. She instructs me to clean the dust off the furniture and the TV. First, I dust off the table in the middle of the living room. Second, I move the cushions off the sofa and the couch to clean them as well. Last, I clean the TV. The dust wasn't that bad. Sara is so obsessive. It is rare to have a guest who comes with a magnifying glass inspecting the house's cleanliness. I think this will be my last errand.

  We sit down to eat in the dining room. I want to eat in the living room. I want to watch TV, but Sara insists to eat it in the dining room because she doesn't want her furniture dirty with food. We eat placidly all the food down with drink ginger ale. Playfully, my feet massage her leg, and she hits my legs to leave her alone.

  "Jimmy, since you worked so hard today, how about I reward you with a passionate night of sex?" I can't believe the words that come out of her mouth. My body aches all over. I don't know if I am up to the challenge. I want to watch TV. I really want to relax, rest, and have a good night sleep for tomorrow. Where does she get so much energy?

  "Okay. After we watch some TV. Don't you want to watch some TV?" I hope my lack of enthusiasm does not register with Sara.

  "TV? TV? I offer you my love, and your response is okay. Okay? Here I am trying to be nice and sweet. I know you are not used to doing the house chores and stuff, but stop looking so miserable. We have to wash the dishes. Please, help me out. It will be worth it. I know you love having me. Forget the damn TV."

  After we are done eating, I help her wash the dishes. At least, it is only a few dishes. My heels ache when I stand next to Sara cleaning the dishes. When you leave the dishes from the morning without water, scrubbing the food off the dishes later requires more effort. Not too much effort, I don't want to sound like a drama queen. Together, we clean the dishes quickly, which is something I welcome.

  With my hopes of watching TV down the drain, I hold hands with Sara to make love in her bedroom. She takes off her clothes and jumps on the bed. Her legs crossed are so seductive. I am in awe of the thighs that she has. Despite all my body aching, I am fully erect and desiring to be inside her. I take my clothes off and put my condom on. I lie on top of her. The pleasure I feel inside of her overrides the pains and aches of my body. My lips kiss her jaw, neck, and throat to satisfy my labial cravings. Her heavy breathing, her smiles, and closed eyes when I look at her increase my libido. In addition to the body-to-body contact, I love her hair touching my face. I hump her roughly and quickly to finish as quickly as possible. I need a good night's sleep. There is no time to savor the moment.

  To my surprise, Sara is not satisfied. She wants more. She wants me to help her squirt again. It shocks me because the love session lasted a solid 13 minutes. This was much longer than the first time we had sex. I even kept going a bit longer after my orgasm to make sure she had one. At least, she moaned loud enough to make me believe she reached an orgasm. This woman has too much energy for me.

  I give her what she wants, another orgasm. She has a special green towel that she places on the bed. This avoids getting the bed wet. My lubed hand stimulates the upper wall of the cylinder. I am already sleepy and fatigued from making love. I lie on the bed face down to the right where I directly see her hips and thighs. My hand, in the form of a fist, goes inside the cylinder. My wrist rotates inside of her as if I was opening a doorknob repeatedly. I receive in gratitude Sara's soft moans of pleasure. Not realizing I am falling asleep, Sara moves my arm to wake me up. She wants me to continue giving her tactile pleasure. After waking up, I make sure to stay awake. My hands stroke and rub her until she squirts all over the green towel. Finally, we fall asleep together until the next morning.

  Chapter 6

  My 7-month relationship with Sara has been harder on her emotionally than it has been on me. The problem is that Sara still believes in the fantasy of love and the sentimental crap that comes with it. This is the main reason why it has been hard on her. She wants the freshness of love when a relationship begins to continue for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, being fresh and exciting for long periods is not my strong point. She expected everything to go differently than the way it has been going.

  She believes in a loving relationship where people should be inspired to become better people for each other. In another time, I would have done everything to please the girl I like. Since I had panic attack problems, I do my best to avoid being stress. Pleasing her requires me to change my personality dramatically to become a "better" person. It is too stressful to go through. I do not want to have the anxiety problems I had during my last semester in college again.

  Sara doesn't like the few changes I made since we live together. I am too monotonous for her. She always pushes me away during the day. She complains that I hug and kiss her too much. My excessive kissing reminded her of a person she knew with mental retardation. At the beginning, she used to think that kissing and hugging her was cute. She doesn't like that I eat the same foods every day. She dislikes my unwillingness to try new foods. She can't believe I get tired so quickly. To her, I haven't bothered to make myself a "better" person for our love to flourish. It is clear I can't sustain the self-confident and talkative personality that I put on to impress her on our first date. The only thing she likes about me now is my love making ability.

  No matter how hard I please her by doing house chores everyday; Sara still wants more from me. She expects me to be more people friendly and socially interactive. She also wishes I were more assertive. She wants me to face my fears of riding on airplanes and roller coaster rides. I can't do that. I am scared of heights. I don't want to put my nervous system in jeopardy.

  All her frustrations spring from the way I am. This is a bad omen for the future. This is my personality. I am the silent type who is socially shy and non-confrontational. I don't like trying new things. I enjoy life being the same every day. She has a hard time accepting my personality. She thought I would magically change into the ideal man over time. My parents have an easier time tolerating my personality than she has. In essence, she does not accept me.

  For me, it has been hard only from a physical point of view. I was not used to doing any house chores. Doing chores every day has left me with persistent, but minor pains and aches all over my body. My body is not adapting to being physically active. In addition, even having sex has been difficult. When you have aches and pains all over your body, the pleasure of love does not feel that sweet anymore. The action of humping does not give me pleasure like it. Luckily, having her breasts in my face every night makes it worth the pain.

  Telling Sara to take a three-day break from making love crossed my mind, but she likes it too much. I keep the pain to myself. Her energy is limitless. She always demands that I help her squirt. The pleasure she feels from squirting is immense. The worst part for me is not only my body aches, but also our lovemaking sessions have become longer. It takes us a while to achieve an orgasm. My body has become very accustomed to having sex. I only feel a small amount of pleasure when my orgasm reaches. I don't want her to get mad. In her anger, she might stop making love to me. I only want a small break, not an eternal break.

  Going out dancing to the club every weekend was something I didn't like, but I thought that I could stomach it. After going out many times to the club, I reconfirm that Sara is an energizer bunny. She keeps going and going. She dances all night long, and I often have a very difficult time keeping up with her. Often, her coworker, Chad, kept dancing with her when I got too tired. Sara continued to get upset because I never showed any jealousy towards Chad. My legs were too sore to even bother feeli
ng insecure and jealous of Chad.

  Two months into the relationship on a night out to the club, Sara screamed at my sore ears that were already bothered by the loud music. She became a screamer when she got more drunk than usual.

  "What do you mean you are tired?" She screamed at me on the dance floor. There was an angry look on her face.

  "Yes, Sara. I am tired. I can't dance anymore." I pulled her away from the dance floor. I was completely out of breath. My legs, knees, thighs, and heels hurt from dancing 30 minutes straight. The music speakers' loud bass made me feel like I had a loud heartbeat in my chest. It was not a good sensation to feel a loud heartbeat and weakness in your legs. It reminded of my past panic attacks.

  "Tired? You don't do anything over the week." Sara argued. Her face had a pinkish tone.

  "Well, I do clean the house's first floor everyday. I am not used to doing that. I am sorry, Sara."

  "That's your excuse? You spend the whole time sitting down at work tutoring people. You come home to clean, and only for that, you can't dance anymore? Man up."

  "I am not a strong man. Don't blame me. Blame my genetics. I am sorry." I explained sitting down at the table, feeling relieved that I was resting.

  "What? You spoiled brat. I didn't think you would be so tired from doing a few house chores. It's been two months since we've been living together. When are you going to stop complaining?" I didn't think specifically telling her that my legs felt the same way they felt when I had panic attacks would have satisfied her. Instead, I changed the subject.