He sighed, closing his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. At first, he'd debated if he should even respond at all. Part of him considered it part of the past, part of a chapter that should remain closed. But he knew that once upon a time, and in some ways even now, this particular sow meant very much to him. So he decided to write.
And he did, but even as he typed, he paused. He hummed, trying to figure out how to put into words what that chapter meant in his life, how it made him feel. Looking back, the signs were all too obvious, and by all means they both should have called it off by the first or second "more questionable" conversations. But there was a connection there. There was something that both of them had, that they both needed: Companionship.
Which is not to say that the relationship was healthy. Not at all. A sow that was more willing to take the abuse due to self-deprecation and a deeply rooted fear of being gay due to his theological upbringing, and a barely legal young man who was mentally and emotionally messed up from a variety of experiences that he was trying to get therapy for to this day.
He didn't consider the experiences an excuse, far from it. While some of his words had faded long ago, he would never forget that the 'relationship' would always dwell in the recesses of his past. But then again, that was part of why he left. Because yes, he cared about the sow, and to this day, cares about him in some way. But the fact was, he realized just how terrible the relationship was. He knew that it was about that control, that abuse, that need, and just how toxic it was.
He knew he had to stop.
He accepted that there would be confusion, there would be anger. He admittedly did not expect the particular revenge fantasies to be posted online using his legal name, where businesses and employers could find them, leading to some unexpected hardships during a pandemic, but despite that, he was able to work things out. He made a gentle sweeping motion, letting that water slip under the bridge, and hummed thoughtfully, considering the sow.
In the end, he didn't know how to feel. He knew that he was grateful, in some ways, to have known him/her. He knew that during a time when he was alone, when one of his dearest friends had committed suicide, he needed someone, anyone, to connect with. And for better or worse, it was the sow. And the sow, despite their back-and-forth, was there. Despite everything that happened, she was there.
And in some ways, he knew that remembeing her was painful. Because he knew, looking back, that part of him was trying to push the pig transformation away. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism for being ostracized as a child, nearly being strangled by a peer in elementary school, being smacked around by one parent while ignored by the other, and other, less pleasant experiences. He pushed, and yet the sow was there. He tried to stop, but the sow came back. And during that time in his life, in the sow's life, they needed each other. So he continued to push. And she enjoyed it. And he pushed harder, and she objected, but she kept coming back.
And looking back, that's something he still didn't understand. The sow was literally hundreds of miles away, and yet she kept coming back. He pushed her any of a dozen different ways, and yet she still came back.
So, one day, he realized just what their relationship was: Abusive. It was a slow-boiling pot, but it was there all the same. And he knew that, with the mindset that the sow had, she would still come back. And he knew that part of him, despite how wrong the relationship had gone, wanted that companionship. But he knew the sow wouldn't understand. She still had that need, that self-hatred, that wanting to escape. And he understood, in his own way. A man in his early to mid 40s living in his mother's house? It wasn't exactly the lap of luxury she'd envisioned, no doubt. But he also knew the sow was raised by a generation that still believed we could/should be able to just jump out there and own a house on a part time job, an unrealistic standard at best, these days.
He knew he had to leave. Part of him wanted to stay, but he knew the relationship wouldn't get better, not the way it was. And he knew that, despite the sow's tendency towards self-deprecation, that she would find someone. And he hummed thoughtfully, smiling softly as it seemed he was right. He made no defense about the fact that the relationship was messed up, that he'd had untreated issues that needed lots of therapy, at minimum.
He sighed, thoughtfully, because he agreed: When it was good, it was really, really good. There were times when they'd been the best thing for each other, when they are were able to support each other, emotionally if nothing else. But even back then, he knew it was time for him to move on, as the sow had moved on.
So he smiled, even as he imagined the sow, resting comfortably between his legs, sucking on his cock, being bred by a boar, squealing in pleasure, and let the image fade, bit by bit, hoping that the surfer sow would have a chance to live a good life in her next chapter, whatever form it may take.