Candida was 17 when I met her at the bar of the Privilege. Paris bars had no drinking restriction for age. She asked if I wanted to go home with her. The teenager was no virgin. That night and morning we fucked five times. It was easy to confuse lust for love in the 80s. It was the end of the sexual revolution. Candida was unfaithful at least once. She gave me the clap and blamed it on a toilet seat. I was no longer in love, so I didn't believe her. We separated after I came home to her apartment in La Ruche and found her in bed with another man. I beat the shit out of him. Her I would have killed in cold blood. I probably could have gotten off charges thanks to the French belief in a 'crime of passion'. I must have have loved her. I can't remember that love anymore, but I was surprised to discover on Facebook that she was a nun. All sins are forgiven in the eyes of the their god. I only wish I could be that divine. Instead I'm human and everything that isn't forgiven can be forgotten with time. she was only 17.
No comments:
Post a Comment