May 14, 2008 00:19
I think he came at the end of the winter. Frustrated by the rejection of Bo, and Andy...and Shane...and Matt... and Sam (one can move quickly through likable men who think one is too fat and accessible to choose over other college girls.) I was only interested in the company. The boys would get rowdy...stay up all night, play video games and listen to MC Chris. And so I hung out there... because eventually someone would talk to me. Because for one minute I would be the center of attention and people would ask my opinion and be annoyed, but slightly amused at my girlish materialism.
So he came for a visit and for two days, without intimation, we pawed at each other, with no particular sexual prowess towards one-another, though I should have known, as we made it known to each other, as if warning someone we just met of having a food allergy, or a penchant for rap music.
You know, sort of wrong; against human nature.
And so the last night, he crawled behind me while we were watching a movie. Gently, unassumingly pressed himself against my back... I think more to get a better view of the TV. I didn't even realize that he might have anything in mind until his hand was on my hip, running down the top of my leg, up to my waist and back. Slowly he worked till he was between my legs, by then my quivering much more obvious, as his body pressed harder to me, his breath devouring me. And at the same time, two of the men I came to love entered. I realized I would never have him. I realized that I had come to terms with that and was moving on.
My heart beat so hard it broke.
After he left the room, it was strange...we hadn't kissed, but shouldn't it have been appropriate?
The funniest thing was that when he was forbidden, I loved him most. I planned to live in his trailer trash, nonclass, pro-nerd life. His smell intoxicated me in that parking lot and I said no, no, no, but I was on strings that pulled me inexplicably to his face, so dangerously close that my then relationship practically dangled from his fingertips. If he had kissed me, I think I would have rethought going to paris...rethought where I was. The day he made love to me, held my hand, tried to pry himself into my memories, into my pictures, my norm...I sent him away and wouldn't speak to him again. I still feel sick about how I treated him. I wouldn't even look him in the eye.
So this is to you.