Faced with all these changes, I decided to listen to Richard and go to bed with a man. But with whom? I didn’t like any of the colleagues from the Association.
My sexual guide was a Colombian, thin, long-haired, white, and the type of man one imagines in the theater, ballet, or a hair salon.
I hated that relationship. This was not what I had been waiting for; the sex was not worth it. Once again, I had relationships that I didn’t want. I took my car at three in the morning. I ran all the red lights in the capital city. I was hoping to just kill myself. I couldn’t because the police stopped me soon.
“Your license, please, and get out of the car for a breathalyzer test,” he said.
“Sorry, officer, I had a horrible experience in the city.
I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?”
“Something like that.”
“Kid, don’t go crazy. If she left you, it’s not the end of the world. Women are very capricious, and it happens to all of us. Go home and forget about it. I won’t fine you out of male solidarity,” he smiled. “Well, was it at least worth it? Was it good in bed?”
“Officer, she was the ugliest woman in the world.”
The traffic burst into laughter and let me go.
“You’ll find a prettier one, you’ll see,” he said, “you’re good-looking, you’ll do well.”
A failed sexual encounter, a failed suicide attempt, and a police officer who couldn’t hold back his laughter.