Suzi Sterel.

I didn’t want to fall in love. I wasn’t even looking for it. He was just another fuck. Sure, we shared common interests; a sarcastic sense of humour, a love of the Bombers and a general lethargic, weekend-procrastination that was perfect. Somehow I fell into this whilst recovering from one of the worst medical experiences of my life.

I don’t say that lightly. I’ve had spinal surgery and a bout of cancer. I survived. That’s all the detail I’ll go into (in this post anyway!) – my point is, I’ve seen some stuff. I’ve lived. I thought the cancer treatment was a doozy til my brain imploded. Two anuerysms in a week. I thought I’d never walk again. I was terrified of losing so many things. Reading. Writing. Talking. Fucking.

And throughout it all, there was Jake. He had somehow literally blown my mind. Falling in love with a fuck buddy was not on the 2022 wishlist – but somehow that’s what I got. He held me when I was tired. He called me to tell me he loved me, that he was going to work, that he missed me. So many things I hadn’t thought I wanted or needed. He’d stop by with a block of chocolate or a bottle of peach iced tea. He played games with me and taught me to love books and writing again. We watched movies and he made me cups of tea. I had to fight my inner demons and accept his help with love and grace, because even though I could do it myself, it was nice for once to have someone do things for me, do things for me that I didn’t even know I wanted.

He was the perfect antithesis to my inner sarcastic bitch that spent her whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop. To push and pull and fight and engorge on men only to spit them out later. To say I was confused was an understatement. Surely this man had an ulterior motive? Why was he being nice to me? It couldn’t possibly be real that he was in love with me as I was with him? That definitely made no sense, it did not compute.
I’d spent the last five years in remission inhaling fuckbuddies and embracing the so-called “walk of shame”. The “walk of shame” was a jump and a skip home. My body tingled and I felt powerful. It was not not shameful to me. Not one bit. I was an empowered woman. A feminist throwing a big fuck you to the patriarchy cos I don’t conform to your whore shaming. Yes I will arrive and leave in active gear, not your designer clothes, shoes. My hair is pulled back until it becomes sex hair. I am in complete comfort, not your stumbling Sex and The City mini-skirts.
I will kiss and fuck and leave in comfort. Ghosting is my speciality.
Your assumed shame and shock and judgement means nothing to me. I wear no shame as it is not mine.
All of this meant nothing when I met Jake.
He blew up my walls and my defences and every single boundary I had enshrouded around me.
The minute that we had a dirty weekend away, he was mine.
Whether he left me the following week or not, he was mine.

I thought I was being so grown up going to the Yarra Valley with a man. Turns out it’s just a lot of paddocks, parks and wine. I don’t even like any of those things. Wait. That’s not true… It is a stunning part of Victoria and I have nothing against a garden or a park, especially if it has a lake. Anyway, I digress.
A dirty weekend. In a winery district. Oooh-lala, indeed. We ate in the restaurant, had cocktails, played some nerdy boardgames, flirting like nobody’s business. It was delicious. Who even WAS I?? Spending two nights with a man, it beggered belief.
As the first night passed and we went to bed, my body tingled, ready and waiting to kiss him, to touch him.
I closed my eyes and felt my body being violently shook awake.
Jess. Jess! Can you hear me?
Mmm, I was tingling.
Squeeze my hand.
I tried but felt nothing. Why couldn’t I open my eyes?
My name is Amir.
Where’s Jake?
I’m here, I’m here sweets.
My eyes fluttered open.
Behind him was a stretcher. In front of me was Amir and Sally, two paramedics, judging by their uniforms. And name tags.
Confusion washed over me. Who even was I? Where was I? Why were there two paramedics pointing lights into my eyes, checking my pulse, giving me oxygen?
I shook my head but apparently it was still swimming underwater. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that when I opened them again, it will all just be a dream. Or a nightmare.
The squeak of the wheel and the lift door opens. Pushing into the ambulance, we drove away. The sirens lulled me to sleep.