The bad thing about this stupid human world full of bad romanticism is that what would be expected of me and of this story is that I would fall in love with my first man, that that teacher would transform into a lasting love, into a parsimony of languid glances. , sighs and motley emotions.
The second-worst thing is that when there is not that type of romanticism mixed in, those things are easily labeled as inconsequential, superficial, or even dirty, as if the only beauty were that marked by that heteronormative romantic love.
However, none of that happened. I enjoyed it; I enjoyed it a lot, and I learned more. I was in good hands, experts, wise and delicate when they had to be, and the rest was physical and passionate, but the next day we didn't run in each other's arms. No, I said not to come back, or I would sleep with the elf again who I didn't even know the name of, but he was the teacher, and I was the student and that's how it should be.
