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His or her body has lost all sexuality to you. But not like “let’s grow old together, our ties transcend physical form”, no, more like a strange object that no longer makes sense. You notice that you are getting further away from the experience, enacting a ban on kissing on the lips like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, not because it encourages intimacy, but because any display of affection is offensive. Any position that involves turning your back to your partner becomes normal. Oral will save you in those hours, but god forgive if the staff looks up and makes eye contact.

Fortunately, sex usually happens at night, so you have plenty of time to look at the wall in the dark, thinking about what it all means. Usually when sex starts to be bad it is the first sign of shit, and considering it is the most visceral – physically, mentally and emotionally – you will not be able to ignore it and let it go.

1) Imagine your partner in a window, the white light of a sunny day illuminating the room, the dust shining in the rays of the sun. You just texted the person “asshole” or “fucking asshole” again, and they’re crying. Crying and crying and crying. You. You made the person feel that way. She is all red in the face. The face soaked with tears. Everything is gone now – all illusions of dignity have been abandoned, so the person cries openly – it is too late to hide, so the person just cries on his shirt, tears streaming down his cheeks, the room smelling of salt. You did it. What do you feel?

2) You hear the bus stop. You know this sound, one of the many traffic sounds on the street at your home. You can hear children playing somewhere nearby, throwing a red ball between them. Your partner is lying on the asphalt, dead, with a trickle of blood coming out of his mouth, his limbs bent in a strange way. The person tried to catch the bus, but was hit by it. Now it’s dead. Eyes still open. A zoom. A zoom in on the face that you already held and said “I love you”. What do you feel?

3) The springs are making that unmistakable noise. Work was quiet, so you left early – you walk home; a nice day, listening to music on the headphones, a perfect hour of joy where you didn’t look on your phone, just walking down the sidewalk, occasionally touching leaves and stems in the gardens – and now you’re at home, a little sweaty from the walk, so maybe i’ll take a shower, but you go up the stairs and – wait, that spring sound. Quick, quick, quick. What? You enter the room: your partner – your boyfriend or girlfriend, it doesn’t matter – is having passionate love with someone else. And not that sex you’ve been having lately – with the lights off, no oral in the foreplay. No. Like: the person has their hands tied to the headboard and gagged.