When I started telling my story with Oliver I knew that in order to get to the better picture I would have to paint the background first. It's nice to see how our brains have a special way to prevent our minds from revisiting those times which hurt us the most.

In my case, that's the end of '08. A brief moment of my life when I made the worst mistakes a person could ever make: those out of innocence.

I knew there was no way to avoid going there if I truly wanted to tell this story and I made my decision to face my past before I penned the first letter in this story. As the moment approaches I start to feel uneasy and my heart beats faster as I lose sleep and my insides knot around themselves.

But the time hasn't come yet.

I have already introduced all but one of the steady boyfriends I have had. All except for Cooper. Weird thing is that when I started writing I thought I would jump straight to him. Maybe I was waiting for something?

Cooper was the first long relationship I had. We dated for exactly one year, one week and one day.

I met Cooper somewhere around mid-'10, having kept away from relationships since resurfacing from the end of '08. Bear in mind that I maintained a safe distance from relationships, not from sex.

During those near eighteen months I lived the height of my gay sauna phase. I would go constantly, sometimes twice a week or more. I'd be given a towel, a key to a locker, a single condom and flip-flops and inside those walls I fulfilled almost all of my porn fantasies: dark rooms; orgies; massages with happy endings; seeing two naked hot guys kissing and kneeling to blow both of them at the same time; getting a good share of pearl necklaces; voyeurism; accidentally blowing a friend (that one wasn't a fantasy, but still happened); being top and bottom at the same time, etc. There was only one rule inside those places: consent must be respected at all times and cost. I always had a fantastic time whenever I went to a gay sauna and I would go home feeling my youth hormones flowing through my skin. No matter how satisfied I left those places I would always jerk off to more porn after entering my room back home.

You're probably thinking I'm a whore. Please, don't think it. Be sure of it.

But I am the most faithful whore I have ever met. Not once in my life have I ever cheated on anyone. No matter how much or how little they meant to me. No matter how long or short-lived our relationship was, I have never been unfaithful.

I once dated a guy who I think was called Vinny. We were around the same age and he was such a fucking sweetheart but had a flair for drama. He thought that going out meant spending money and would never go on a date with me if he couldn't go shopping. This made him have a tantrum over the phone as we reached the famous three-week mark. He bellowed 'you know what? Forget it! Forget about me! Forget about us!' and proceeded to hang up on me.

I had never been so obedient.

A few weeks later a common acquaintance of ours told me Vinny had been asking about me. With true confusion in my reaction I asked 'who?'.

Allow me to go back to Cooper. I will here grant myself the same prerogative I did with Peter and I will talk about Cooper in whichever order I see fit. Unlike Peter, though, I would like to begin from the very ending, the day I last laid my eyes on Cooper.

We had travelled to celebrate our first anniversary. That was a milestone for the pair of us: me having a steady relationship at last and him finally having anyone at all. I was 23, he was 31. He grew up as poor as me but had achieved a fairly good salary as a public university professor a couple of years before we met and allowed himself the privilege to constantly belittle me for my financial status.

We were at the airport waiting for our flight back home when he excused himself to the bathroom. He came back with a pouty face.

'What happened?'

'Nothing.'

'I know that face. What happened?'

'This airport has a VIP lounge for the holders of my credit card and I can't go.'

'Why not? You're a holder too.'

'I know I am. But you're not and I am with you, so I can't go.'

'Geez Louise. What am I supposed to say to that? Thanks for the consideration and I'm sorry I'm as poor as you were when you were my age?'

True, I'm nowhere near the financial status he had now I am as old as he was back then, but then again... Choices.

We didn't speak much for the rest of the day and, when back at our airport, I left heading to my mother's car, I knew that awkward hug had been our last. Not even two hours after that he called me, trying for the third time to break-up. Everything has a limit, including my blinding love for him. I used to drink from his words and feast from his skin out of sheer admiration. But no more.

'Hear me out, Cooper. You seduced me with kind words about the future and now you obviously don't see yours with me. I'm tired of kicking this dead dog alone. You wanna call it quits? We'll call it quits. Have a nice life.'

The next day at work the friends I had back then did whatever friends are told to do: they tried to cheer me up and encouraged me to not cry over him. But I wanted to cry over him. I wanted to cry over my shattered dreams. I wanted to cry over the full year of my life I had lost. I felt the need to mourn this loss and it felt as if I didn't have permission to do so.

So I didn't. I put a fake smile on my face and kept it there until I believed it myself. It was a huge mistake and the foundation stone upon which my grave depression would build itself a little less than two years after that.

As I have said before, when we are depressed we tend to try and protect those around us so they don't suffer the same as us. I was glad I was able to extend a little bit of that protection towards myself. I had made a promise to never allow anyone to influence me as much as Cooper did. That kept me somehow on edge with Oliver for quite some time.

We had been dating for about a month. That's right... Thirty dates. We hadn't had sex yet and I was going up the fucking walls. But for the first time I was okay with waiting.

Every day, although still insecurely suspicious, I loved him more and I was constantly thankful for having allowed myself to accept and reciprocate his love since that shocking text after out first date. But I didn't feel the way I felt with Cooper and that scared the shit out of me.

We still cherished each other's presence as we cherished air and if he was able to swim unharmed in the acid sea of my depression, I constantly asked myself what he'd be able to do if I ever healed. I knew I wanted him by my side, but I still didn't understand how I just couldn't feel the same way I felt with Cooper. I decided to apply my professional experience to it.

As a teacher, my preferred way to understand something new is trying to explain it to somebody else.

We were sitting at 'our square' as we did every day. He sensed I was tense.

'What happened, my love?'

'Can I have your lighter, please?'

'What do you want with it?' He looked at me scared. I found it cute.

'I want to try and understand something and explain it to you at the same time.'

He handed me the lighter and, as expected, it was set to medium flame. I set it to the highest. It was a bit windy, perfect for what I wanted. I lit it up and a strong flame came out, flickering a bit due to the wind. It threatened to burn my finger, but I kept my hold.

'These have been all my past relationships. Strong, hot, reaching surprising heights. At the same time so unstable, flickering with the slightest wind, burning me in the process, fading quickly.'

I let my finger down, killing the flame that was already reddening my skin closest to it.

'I don't want this for us. I want... this' I said as I set the flame to the smallest and lit it up again. 'At first it looks weak and insufficient, but it keeps burning. It remains stable despite the same wind as before, dare I say it could take even stronger winds. A calmer flame that is bound to keep us both warm and unharmed.'

I gave him back the lighter. He put it away, his eyes fixed on my hand.

'Come with me' he said getting up and taking me by the hand.

'Where are we going?'

'Well, I still can't take you to heaven, but at least to its gates I can' with that riddle I followed him. It was really late at night, the day had already turned. We went up his street and he sat us both at his doorstep. It was pitch dark.

'Sorry I can't take you in just yet.'

'It's okay...' I barely had time to say before he grabbed me from behind my neck and started kissing me deeply. Deeper than ever before. Our first make-out session was filled with lots of I love yous from both of us and I felt special and loved as he made me feel everyday.