Episode 12

...XAVIER AMERY...

I watch my little Chris grow and realize he needs a mother figure, yet his nannies aren’t bad, even though he’s had several. Each time he begins to bond with his caretaker, she leaves for one reason or another.

One who stayed the longest had a motorcycle accident, and another got pregnant and worked as long as the doctor allowed until she needed to go on maternity leave.

Then came two more, but my son didn’t take to them, which was a problem.

The agency that sends me nannies must be constantly recruiting because they've already sent at least a dozen workers here, and none manage to stay for more than a few months at best.

Just as my son is unlucky with his nannies, I seem to be equally out of luck in my love life.

I've met a number of women, but with none did I feel more than desire, and even that I can't claim to have felt with all of them. I was starting to believe there was actually something wrong with my body’s ability to maintain an erection.

When I went out to dine with Fiorela, a stunning singer who promoted a new collection for our family brand, I was mesmerized. She was charming, attractive, with sky-blue eyes and night-black, curly hair cascading down to her hips. She had a magnificent figure with long shapely legs, a toned and flat stomach, and naturally appearing medium-sized breasts. Her face was very pretty too, with thick brows, long lashes, a small nose, and full lips that begged to be kissed.

During dinner, it became apparent through hidden-meaning-laden remarks that we were both interested in taking things further. It had been a long while since I’d been intimate with a woman, and my body was beginning to long for that kind of release and pleasure. As we finished dessert, the air between us grew hotter.

We decided to go to a hotel. Inside the room we kissed, we touched, but it didn't feel as good as I had imagined. My desire seemed to have extinguished, and, feeling more humiliated than anything, I had to leave without achieving climax.

Fiorela treated the matter as nothing out of the ordinary, saying these things happen and didn't put much importance on it, so I gathered she hadn’t felt much desire either.

That’s when I realized that without love, or at the very least a certain connection, I struggle to be with a woman, no matter how beautiful she may be. I may think it's foolish, but that's how I am, and I can't change it.

Later, I met Maribel, a stunning model who seemed rather innocent. Her sweetness attracted me, and she even mentioned she liked children and hoped to become a mother someday. She was blonde and not very tall, her chest obviously enhanced, but everything else about her was natural and quite beautiful. I suggested we go somewhere quiet, and I took her to a hotel.

Things heated up quickly between us, and my body was ablaze with desire for her. The surprise came when, as we were intimate, her supposed sweetness and innocence vanished.

She asked me to be rough, to bite her, demanding more and harder, she even screamed. When it was over, she was satisfied, yet it took me an eternity to climax because I found her manner unstimulating.

After that encounter, I never called her again, and when she later contacted me, she told me I was good in bed but that her tastes were quite wild. She described her preference for a dominant-submissive dynamic. She understood it wasn't my style, but we ended on good terms.

Adara was another woman with whom I felt no connection. She reminded me of my ex-wife, and just with that, I couldn't focus or force my body to cooperate. My son saw her once and cried just by looking at her, which made me smile.

I forced myself not to think about women. If there was someone with whom I could have a good time, I’d let it happen naturally, but marrying to give my son a bad example of a mother was out of the question. I preferred to stay single rather than have someone else be unfaithful to me again. Besides, my son is older now; the last thing I want is for him to become emotionally attached to someone who doesn’t consider him important in their life.

As my son turned three, I saw changes in him. One day, comparing him to other children and traits attributed to their age, I didn’t like what I saw. He was different—serious and rarely laughed. He had become what you’d call antisocial, distrustful of the world, preferring isolation. Sometimes he’d ask about his mother, and I didn’t know what to tell him. That’s when I decided to revisit a psychologist, but this time to acquire tools to communicate the truth to him in a way he could understand.