Amanda walks into my world like a life threatening illness. I know who she is and what she means to me almost instantly. It’s her personality that strikes me, not neccessarily her beauty or the way her ass looks in a tight pair of jeans. She stands her ground throughout the first few months I know her, from afar as her shorter form lends itself no resemblance to the way she carries herself as a woman. Even though at the time I’m only twenty two I’ve met a lot of bitter woman and woman who want to play games, she seems different to most of the girls out there that I know, at least in this city. Then she leaves.
To that date, I was a man carried of not what I would call subtle arrogance but more what i would call confident gratification. I had slept with fifty six woman in the four years prior. That’s about once every twenty six days. If you take into account the combined twelve months I’d spent with six different and varying girlfriends then divide by fifty that average drops to about once every twenty two days when single. Impressive for a guy from a town where every second girl is the neighbour of the friend of the girl you fucked in your lounge when your parents were away. I moved to this city confident, determined and hungry for success. I’d moved before, to another city somewhere south, enjoying my time but letting reckless abandon destroy the plans I had forgotten. This move had been different from before, the earlier endeavour forging a determination within myself to find the sun, somewhere happy and magical. I know now that I have found it, but in a much different form than I could of imagined.
Amanda is back six months later.