Now I know how to love
Published by me in italian in the ebook Tracce just translated for Partiko Lottery
I met him one evening, one of the many nights I did not want to go out.
Maria forced me, dragged, to a dinner with a group of motorcyclists, to me, that I had never climbed on a motorcycle, that I did not want to climb and that certainly nobody would have wanted as a backpack. But a friend is this, one that drags you to a dinner where you did not want to go to not let you depress home alone. I met him there; he sat in front of me and we started talking, joking, laughing. I was stupid and funny, stupid and funny as I've never been before and never since that evening.
He was nice, he was not handsome, but he was smart, he was charming and he made me laugh. So I did a lot of stupid things; at the end I turned a glass of wine on me, I dirty the whole tablecloth, I filled the plate of wine, I also stained Maria: I made a mess.
And while I was making disasters, I laughed.
I laughed because he looked at me and talked to me as if I existed and it does not happen to me often, in fact it never happens to me. I'm not ugly, I have a beautiful face, I'm smart, nice, ironic, sociable and fat, very fat, not obese, but fat enough not to exist. The men do not see me, their gaze passes through my skin and magically lays on some slender girl that is behind me.
Although she is ugly, even if she is stupid, indeed, especially if she is stupid.
It is said of a man that he can also be ugly, as long as he is at least an asshole.
A woman is said to be ugly, as long as she is at least a slut.
I say: a woman does not even have to be a slut, as long as she is at least stupid ... and I am not.
When you are fat, fat as a child, you get used to be ignored, excluded, not considered. I was not yet completly get used to, I was young and I had learned early not to ask, not to wait, not to hope, to be transparent, but I did not get used to. I have always found it ridiculous that a thin girl is defined as 'transparent' when everyone else sees she; the transparent one instead was me, who wanted to see me there, and how ...
But the gaze of men does not move in a straight line, when it comes close to a fat one, it turns around and continues, as if there were nothing in between. All this at best, because then, especially as a child, there are teasing. As a child both males and females are bad but, even if only to make fun of you and mortify you, they consider you: you still exist.
After, when the looks are dense, for you that are fat there is not even one, if it happens you know it's a mistake and you turn to see who was directed and there is always another waiting for you move. At that age you start to disappear and slowly you get used to it, they do not make fun of you anymore, they do not bother you: they ignore you completely. So you do not get to be stupid, even if you're stupid, let alone if you're not. You do not even be a slut, because if you do you're ridiculous, you're compassionate, you're sad, you look like a bum in front of the church asking for alms, while those skinny and sluts do not ask for alms, they do.
It is no small thing the difference.
So you're not stupid, you're not a slut, you do not even leave home and, when you do not leave, nobody looks for you, your phone is silent, there are no text messages, phone calls, ringing: nothing.
I was like this before that evening.
Then I started to be stupid, but later, after he looked at me, after he saw me, after he realized I existed. Being stupid is fun and I did it so cleverly, so over the top, that I also liked myself. I was stupid in the way that only one person with my culture, with my intelligence and with my extra pounds can be. I thought I liked him, I thought I stopped his gaze on me.
It was only a moment.
That moment lasted two years.
Two years of miles and miles by car, of motorbike rides made by car, of dinners, of aperitifs, of evenings, of long talks, of a thousand common interests, of music, of politics, of everything. All just to see him, to be with him, to talk to him. In that moment lasted two years he has always looked at me as if I existed, he spoke to me, it was always ironic, funny, charming, always like that first evening. Time passed and I did not find the courage to tell him, that I was there only for him, I never even mentioned it to him.
Until last night, last night I found the courage because in these two years I get used to, I matured.
I threw up all my expectations, my hopes, my car rides in the face: everything. I did not want an answer, I just wanted to be complete. I knew his answer to the question I did not already know.
I found the courage to tell him everything just because that moment lasted two years was finally over and I did not try anything for him. I always knew that he liked another, a pretty, skinny, stupid girl; I had no need for him to tell me. But he did not tell me this, he just asked me why I never told him anything, because I had lost so much time for a "nop".
At that moment my wound closed, my get used to was complete.
This morning I woke up another one.
Now I get used to, now I know how to love.
Published by me in italian in the ebook Tracce
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