My dear Clyde, I've seen a lot and experienced a lot since we drifted apart 448 days ago. I am now a totally new person with a different mindset and a conflicting heart to the ones you've known. But my bones and skin are still the same. And my veins. And my blood. And somehow, whenever I meet a new person, I consciously observe how my body would react to his touch. You know how hypersensitive I am, right? My senses are heightened in literally everything. This is reason why I easily lost in our tickle fights despite my competitive spirit. Heck, despite being together for 2 years, I still flinched whenever you hold my waist. It took me sometime to get used to how you held me. And you used my hypersensitivity to your advantage. You are my first real sexual encounter. You love how my body reacts to your delicate touches until it totally loses control and succumbs to your affection. We can be sitting in a restaurant, I wearing a skirt, your fingers doing their wonder, the crowd ignorant to what we're doing, and I'd be off to the restroom several minutes later to wipe myself dry. Our fastest record is that one midnight during a red traffic light along EDSA. You were driving and I was hella bored in the shotgun, wearing my Sunday dress. That was seventy-one seconds to be exact. That is how well you've memorized my anatomy. So I was hoping that even after we drifted apart, my hypersensitivity will remain with whoever I am with. You sent That my body will react the same way as it did to you. That I would still feel the same sensation when someone is holding me. That I would still feel my veins throb and my mind slow down. Because this is still the same body that knew you and your touch. But now, this body cannot recognize any touch that doesn't belong to you. It's been 448 days since my body recognized any sensual touch. I wonder if this is really a thing, or my mind has this made up. I've dated 5 men after you. Of course we made out. I even let them touch me. You know how I liked it hard, so I held them when they're hard too. When we're still together, we used to talk about sizes a lot. And man, were those men huge. Probably larger than you. So I thought it would turn me on. I thought it would activate my senses and bring me to the zone. But nothing ever felt the same. I couldn't reciprocate the passion of their touches. All of them asked why I didn't get wet. I just shrugged the question off and continued to kiss them passionately, 'cause if there's anything I've mastered, it's the art of kissing someone to the point of him losing his mind. It's the best way to dodge the long-standing question. And you know what's funnier and even more infuriating? You were a jerk. You're a narcissist, a liar, and a cheater rolled in one. You sent But my body had its best with you. You've articulately spoken the language of my desire and written it perfectly in cursive with your tongue. My mind and heart have completely abhorred your entirety but my body can't seem to let you go. You're still in my dreams. And in my dreams, heaven felt as if it wasn't out of my reach-only there was the reality. The waking up. The cruel truth that my body is still in love with a man who can be the reincarnation of satan. The cruel truth that while you have brought me to heaven, you were also responsible for my suffering in hell. You were the worst for my mental and emotional faculty and the best for my sensual body. Tell me, my dear Clyde, how does my body un-know you? • Bonnie