The Man Before
A Sequel To The Woman Before
This post is either a story or a monologue. Although I’m very unknown as to what this might be… I am certain that this is for the men and women who’ve lost *that* man before.
It’s been a week, a month, a year or a bender. You will soon forget about the Man Before. The taste of his lips, the smell of his cologne and the touch of his hands will soon become a forgotten memory. The type of memory you hideaway through the copious amount of pills you take and the drinks you devour on a Wednesday night. You will finally fall to your knees in desperation thanks to the human condition. You will find a man who fills the void in your heart. The type of man who drinks handcrafted beer, types on his laptop at hipster bars and quotes various poets who’ve posted their meaningful words onto Instagram. The type of man who doesn’t go down between your legs but will happily hold your hair before you reach his lips… He’s the one you’ll meet after the Man Before.
Does he reply to your texts on time and soon? His words short and quick similar to the way he’s done with you? Does he drink coffee in the morning and make toast, but most importantly does he offer some to you? When he’s in a rush he’ll go to work by train or tram. His eyes wandering on girls who wear short skirts who smile back. He works as a graphic designer or for some sort of marketing firm. He wears laid back outfits bought from large department stores. He reminds you of an Instagram fashion template you’ve liked before.
He’ll text and call you during his lunch break from work. But the words that you hear on that grainy phone call don’t seem to match the Man Before. His words don’t feel meaningful or fulfilling. Instead, it feels like they’re being said just so you will get down on your knees for him again. You text him back, because what else are you meant to do?
In his living room and by his bedside table, there are books that are desired to be read. From inspiring autobiographies to memoirs of Nelson Mandela, Ernest Hemingway, Bear Grylls and Bob Dylan. Stories of courageous journeys and life-changing events, the type of stories he wants to live but “never had the opportunity to do so”. Instead of reading those books he’ll dog-ear random pages, as though they’re conversation starters for his work friends and colleagues. He’ll never learn the plot, the characters or the places he’d go. Instead, he’s more worried about what bar he and the boys are going to after work.
When he drives does he listen to the radio, paying attention to the Top 40 Countdown and its lyrics? Does he let you sing and shout the lyrics at the top of your voice out of pure anger, joy and sadness? You’ll sit in the passenger seat and twitch at the thought of that song, you know, the one you danced to with the Man Before.
When you’re naked in front of him, does he find beauty in the flaws? As his hands skim across the uneven curves and rolls and thunder strokes of stretch marks on your thighs, do you feel loved? You know he hates those marks on your legs, they don’t look like the ones of Victoria’s Secret models. Does he kiss your neck and move his lips into your insides? His tongue searching for you, trying to find out how he can make you gasp for life and breathe out his name as you clutch his hair…Does the scent of sex linger in the air when you lay together? You know the Man Before hated the smell of wood scented candles that hide the smell of love fresh in the morning.
You used to wear black lingerie, the type you could wear on your way to work or in the bedroom. But when you wear it in front of him, you can tell his mind is drifting off to other places, just like yours when you accidentally called him by the Man’s Before Name.
When the Man Before held you close, your arms held him closer to you as your breathing went fast. You loved it when he held you down and made you beg for it and whisper sweet things in his ear. But the man you love now focuses on his own pleasure. Just as you are about to reach the skies and the stars above he collapses onto his back and asks if you want anything to eat.
The conversations you share aren’t as in-depth and thoughtful as they had been before. His words feel monotone and vague, nothing about him is unpredictable and spontaneous. You tell him how you want to be a writer, but he doesn’t really care about the stories you want to share or the poems you want to write. Those words may puncture his heart but deep down he knows that his own love would never cause you to feel the same. You gripped onto the idea of life with the Man Before, whilst this man grips for his car keys after your third argument this week.
When you both watch movies it’s always Matt Damon. It’s never the meaningful stories of Tarantino and the Speilberg classics. It’s the stories of explosions and gun shoot-outs for the sacrifice of love for the woman of the protagonist's dreams. You think of the times that you spent with the Man Before, who let you watch these films but with the more artistic approach taken by the director.
The Man Before lusted for your love of wanderlust. You loved The Alchemist and the meanings of life that you annotated every day since you were sixteen. He listened to your ramblings at three in the morning and watched the golden specks in your eyes when you reiterated your final point. You told this man your dreams of going to foreign places and meeting foreign strangers. You told him about the waterfalls in Hawaii and the deserts of Egypt that called your name. The temples in Indonesia that could create a haven for you and your spirituality. But he only wants to travel to Ibiza and back. But now you want to leave…. the same way you did with the Man Before.
It will take a week, a month, a year or a bender for you to realise that nobody can replace the love you had for the Man Before. No drug, no alcohol, no wonderful sex and orgasms could replace the void that lingers in your life. But you knew you deserved better, so why’d did you leave?
You left with your bags packed, clothes concealing your body as you walked away, he watches heartbroken as you leave…
Just like the Man Before.
