“Nah, I promised myself not to.”
I watched him closely as he twirled a lock using his index finger and he exhaled, deeply. This was the guy I lost my virginity to a few months ago and the bond and relationship we created, wasn’t healthy.
He was fresh off a two year relationship break up and I on the other hand was just lonely and looking for physical affection. From the start, I knew I was the one who’d get utterly hurt. I saw it coming, but I chose to ignore it.
He was the closest thing I had to a relationship because of what we’d talk about and the sex. It was good, I liked it. He filled my mind with a lot including thoughts of our new sexual adventures and what we’d love to do plus our fantasies.
I was hooked. Hooked to his dick but mostly, his mind. He made me feel things no one else would. I let him in and I was vulnerable to him. He knew what I tasted like, he knew the texture of my tongue, he knew about the cuts on my thighs and those on my tummy too. He knew that I loved the feel of teeth sinking into my inner thighs. He knew everything. From the fact that I loved gold coated jewellery and vanilla to the fact that I loved it when he’d choke me as he slammed into me.
He was hurting though. I could see it. And I don’t know why, but I felt like I could save him. I felt like I could heal him and we’d both grow out of the anger and sadness we were so immersed in, that is if he let me. But he felt nothing for me; nothing. And this made me angry. Mostly sad, but I was angry at myself, for not being good enough for him.
He’d say that his perception on love isn’t as it used to be and therefore, he doesn’t know what he feels about me. Anyone would know that it was evident sugar coated rejection. And me, being me, had NEVER been rejected.
When it came to guys, I knew how to toy with their minds. I can name the boys I’ve legitimately liked and wanted to be with because of how emotionally absent I am when it comes to the topic of relationships. I’m that kind of asshole who doesn’t like you back and isn’t bothered by it. Karma.
I was willing to overlook how damaged we were and build, but… He didn’t like me and instead, he’d run after the girls who looked like they had everything under control; the make up, thousands of followers on social media, perfect tits and shit. He wanted the Kylie Jenner and I was the girl next door who wore sweatpants and crocs to school. I lived in a world I created for myself and locked everyone out of it. Everyone but him. He got to see just a bit, but not enough to keep him.
What did he want with such girls? They didn’t have anything in common with him. They wouldn’t be amused with what he liked. They wouldn’t see what I saw. They wouldn’t fuck him like I did… Is that who he really wanted his soul tied to?
He didn’t know what he wanted and he’d look for it in all the wrong places. And I made a huge mistake by blaming myself for something that he had control over. He was the problem all this time because I knew what I wanted; him.
For awhile, I lost myself because I thought I found him. And for the shortest time, had the most fun with just his company.
Sometimes he’s all I think of… And I hate that whenever I have a cig, all that clouds my mind is him as I recall when we’d take short night trips in the cold only to get 4 cigarettes.
I hate that I can’t touch myself without seeing his face.
I hate that he puts girls that aren’t me on his display photo.
I hate that he still talks to me like everything is okay.
I hate that I care.
I hate that it had to be him…
I hope he gets wiser and gets to see who is really down for him because I’m the realest love he’ll ever get.
Also, may this peace he’s searched so long for, find him.