Companion on the Road to No-Man's Land
Smudged mascara lies in pale streaks on the tops of my cheeks. My underarms possess Lust's dwindling presence in the form of sweat. The flush is fading from my skin, as is the soreness from within.
Post-sex poetry? Something like that.
Michael and I got together tonight. After three months of not having seen each other, he was finally down in Seattle running an errand, and decided to stop by. I was literally in the shower when he called to say that he was in my area (I knew I was probably going to see him today, and so I did all the necessary body hair maintenance and whatnot). I quickly hopped out of the shower soon after, rubbing baby oil on my body, cutting my nails, getting dressed, and doing my hair, all in rapid succession. I also applied my makeup, and as I was making a quick underwear change, Michael called and said that he was here. I happened to be on the phone with my mother at the same time, and so I hung up with her, threw on my underwear and jeans, and buzzed Michael in.
We hugged hello when he came upstairs, and he asked me if I were hungry. He explained that he was quite famished himself, and so wanted to get some dinner. I brushed my teeth while he thought about what he wanted. We ended up going to an Italian restaurant called Amante's just up the street from my building. It was in the building where the Red Line used to be, on Olive Way. I had an okay-but-not-great salami sandwich with mozzarella (not to mention the fact that I asked for it cold and they gave it to me hot), and a cup of Italian Wedding soup.
After dinner, we came back to my apartment and decided to watch a DVD--my Broadway's Lost Treasures DVD. We cuddled a little bit on the couch there, and kissed. Nothing too heavy. Once the DVD ended, though, we went into my bedroom. Immediately Michael turned the light off and pushed me onto the bed. We proceeded to kiss, touch, and get naked, as the kids might say these days.
Anyway, we started to have sex. Everything seemed to be dandy and fine. But then he just stopped. Said he couldn't do it, couldn't continue to have sex with me. Why? I asked him why, but I didn't need an answer, because I already knew. It was because of the STD thing.
For those of you in need of a refresher course, I got tested for STDs back in August, after learning about Jonathan sleeping with a girl who had genital warts. All of the tests came back negative, much to my great relief. Even though I immediately informed Michael of the good news, he had told me some weeks later that he was having trouble still finding me attractive, because of the STD thing. Thus began my quest to help him find me attractive again, an odyssey that stretched on for months, until tonight, when I finally got to see him in person again.
Y'know, I really thought I'd done it. He took my clothes off, we copulated in the doggy-style position. It was just like old times. So when he stopped, I was surprised. When he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, but simply said that it was him, that it was in his head, I was confused. It didn't take me long to figure it out, though. "Is it the STD thing? Is that it?" I asked. I knew the answer, though. He laid there for a few minutes, with me sitting on top of him. Then he lifted me up and laid me down next to him. It was then that it dawned on me what was happening. I knew it was over. I felt the lump in my throat growing and the tears starting to come, though I fought them back.
"I should get going," he said.
I sat on the edge of my bed, arms crossed over my chest, one resting on my knee. I watched out of the corner of my eye and spoke to him as he put his pants back on.
"If you're going to walk out of my life forever, could you at least give me some notice first? Just a fair warning. That's all I ask. I'm just...I'm not the kind of person who can just rip people out of my life or be ripped out of someone's life suddenly. It's happened once before, but I didn't think it would happen twice. I must be a special kind of repulsive." My voice was breaking now.
"No, you're not. It's me, it's my head. It's probably over, though. I'm sorry."
"I wish you no ill. I wish you happiness and good luck with whatever you decide to do with your life. I just hope that no one ever does to you what you're doing to me right now, because you have no idea how much it hurts." I started to cry then, despite my efforts not to.
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed my back. "I'm sorry it had to end like this," he said.
"I'm sorry, too," I replied.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.
"Eventually. I mean, this is just happening now. It would be some kind of a world record if I was okay and all better in ten minutes."
It's all sort of a blur right now, but I know he finished getting dressed then. I cursed myself for crying. I'd held on for so long, but I couldn't fight it anymore. I wasn't bawling, or even sobbing. He went into the living room to get his coat.
"I just...I mean, I can't believe you don't even want to be my friend. There must be something really, really wrong with me or something." Still crying.
He sat on the arm of the sofa. He pulled me--still naked--into his arms, and hugged me tightly as the tears flowed. We stayed like that for several long minutes, just hugging. "I just think it would be too difficult to be friends. How would you feel if I started dating someone? There'd be jealousy," he said.
"Well I'll have to take your word for it, cause I've never had an experience like this before. But you can date whoever you want, I don't care," I said. "I don't have any romantic attachment to you or romantic desires. But I guess...I understand how it would be difficult to be friends, cause we'd always know that we'd already crossed that line, and it might be awkward and all."
"Good luck with your house in South America," I said, as we broke our embrace.
"Good luck with your book."
"I'll send you an autographed copy."
A few moments later, he left. For good.
~*~
Now, I'm sitting here, empty and a little lost. I've pretty much stopped crying, but I feel downright lousy. I didn't cry because of Michael, exactly. I wasn't attached to him or anything. I cried because of the rejection. You'd think that I'd be used to it by now, but...I guess not. I'm 0 for 3 here, for crying out loud. First Nick, then Jonathan, now Michael. It's been me every single time. I know Nick talked about me behind my back when we were dating, and, well, we all know what happened with Jonathan. The fact that it's been three different guys now signifies that I must be the problem.
God...I know that lying is bad, but look where the truth gets you. If I'd just never told Michael about the whole STD thing, maybe this would never have happened. I couldn't do that though, I couldn't do that to him, because he was a nice guy and it would've been wrong. Perry said that taking the moral high road isn't always easy, and I'm definitely noticing that myself. I couldn't have lied to Michael and gone ahead and had sex with him. I was never so desperate for sex that I'd do whatever it took to get it. I'm not desperate now, either. I mean, I admit that when Michael said he was coming over, I thought to myself "Yippee! I am maybe going to get laid tonight." Though not in an Animal House-ish way, of course. I just don't know what else I could've done to help Michael find me attractive. I did the right thing--got tested, told him straightaway--and I still couldn't make it right. It's funny. Jonathan has been out of my life for months now, and he's still screwing me over.
You know what the kicker is: I was supposed to go to a party tonight, the Seattle WriterGrrls holiday party, at the Capitol Club just a few blocks from here. My mom said I should go instead of hanging out with Michael, because of the networking possibilities and such. But I made my choice. I hadn't seen Michael in three months, and I made my choice. I guess it wasn't a good one, but there's nothing I can do about it now.
Well, at least there was one upside to tonight: I got a free dinner.
Post-sex poetry? Something like that.
Michael and I got together tonight. After three months of not having seen each other, he was finally down in Seattle running an errand, and decided to stop by. I was literally in the shower when he called to say that he was in my area (I knew I was probably going to see him today, and so I did all the necessary body hair maintenance and whatnot). I quickly hopped out of the shower soon after, rubbing baby oil on my body, cutting my nails, getting dressed, and doing my hair, all in rapid succession. I also applied my makeup, and as I was making a quick underwear change, Michael called and said that he was here. I happened to be on the phone with my mother at the same time, and so I hung up with her, threw on my underwear and jeans, and buzzed Michael in.
We hugged hello when he came upstairs, and he asked me if I were hungry. He explained that he was quite famished himself, and so wanted to get some dinner. I brushed my teeth while he thought about what he wanted. We ended up going to an Italian restaurant called Amante's just up the street from my building. It was in the building where the Red Line used to be, on Olive Way. I had an okay-but-not-great salami sandwich with mozzarella (not to mention the fact that I asked for it cold and they gave it to me hot), and a cup of Italian Wedding soup.
After dinner, we came back to my apartment and decided to watch a DVD--my Broadway's Lost Treasures DVD. We cuddled a little bit on the couch there, and kissed. Nothing too heavy. Once the DVD ended, though, we went into my bedroom. Immediately Michael turned the light off and pushed me onto the bed. We proceeded to kiss, touch, and get naked, as the kids might say these days.
Anyway, we started to have sex. Everything seemed to be dandy and fine. But then he just stopped. Said he couldn't do it, couldn't continue to have sex with me. Why? I asked him why, but I didn't need an answer, because I already knew. It was because of the STD thing.
For those of you in need of a refresher course, I got tested for STDs back in August, after learning about Jonathan sleeping with a girl who had genital warts. All of the tests came back negative, much to my great relief. Even though I immediately informed Michael of the good news, he had told me some weeks later that he was having trouble still finding me attractive, because of the STD thing. Thus began my quest to help him find me attractive again, an odyssey that stretched on for months, until tonight, when I finally got to see him in person again.
Y'know, I really thought I'd done it. He took my clothes off, we copulated in the doggy-style position. It was just like old times. So when he stopped, I was surprised. When he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, but simply said that it was him, that it was in his head, I was confused. It didn't take me long to figure it out, though. "Is it the STD thing? Is that it?" I asked. I knew the answer, though. He laid there for a few minutes, with me sitting on top of him. Then he lifted me up and laid me down next to him. It was then that it dawned on me what was happening. I knew it was over. I felt the lump in my throat growing and the tears starting to come, though I fought them back.
"I should get going," he said.
I sat on the edge of my bed, arms crossed over my chest, one resting on my knee. I watched out of the corner of my eye and spoke to him as he put his pants back on.
"If you're going to walk out of my life forever, could you at least give me some notice first? Just a fair warning. That's all I ask. I'm just...I'm not the kind of person who can just rip people out of my life or be ripped out of someone's life suddenly. It's happened once before, but I didn't think it would happen twice. I must be a special kind of repulsive." My voice was breaking now.
"No, you're not. It's me, it's my head. It's probably over, though. I'm sorry."
"I wish you no ill. I wish you happiness and good luck with whatever you decide to do with your life. I just hope that no one ever does to you what you're doing to me right now, because you have no idea how much it hurts." I started to cry then, despite my efforts not to.
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed my back. "I'm sorry it had to end like this," he said.
"I'm sorry, too," I replied.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.
"Eventually. I mean, this is just happening now. It would be some kind of a world record if I was okay and all better in ten minutes."
It's all sort of a blur right now, but I know he finished getting dressed then. I cursed myself for crying. I'd held on for so long, but I couldn't fight it anymore. I wasn't bawling, or even sobbing. He went into the living room to get his coat.
"I just...I mean, I can't believe you don't even want to be my friend. There must be something really, really wrong with me or something." Still crying.
He sat on the arm of the sofa. He pulled me--still naked--into his arms, and hugged me tightly as the tears flowed. We stayed like that for several long minutes, just hugging. "I just think it would be too difficult to be friends. How would you feel if I started dating someone? There'd be jealousy," he said.
"Well I'll have to take your word for it, cause I've never had an experience like this before. But you can date whoever you want, I don't care," I said. "I don't have any romantic attachment to you or romantic desires. But I guess...I understand how it would be difficult to be friends, cause we'd always know that we'd already crossed that line, and it might be awkward and all."
"Good luck with your house in South America," I said, as we broke our embrace.
"Good luck with your book."
"I'll send you an autographed copy."
A few moments later, he left. For good.
~*~
Now, I'm sitting here, empty and a little lost. I've pretty much stopped crying, but I feel downright lousy. I didn't cry because of Michael, exactly. I wasn't attached to him or anything. I cried because of the rejection. You'd think that I'd be used to it by now, but...I guess not. I'm 0 for 3 here, for crying out loud. First Nick, then Jonathan, now Michael. It's been me every single time. I know Nick talked about me behind my back when we were dating, and, well, we all know what happened with Jonathan. The fact that it's been three different guys now signifies that I must be the problem.
God...I know that lying is bad, but look where the truth gets you. If I'd just never told Michael about the whole STD thing, maybe this would never have happened. I couldn't do that though, I couldn't do that to him, because he was a nice guy and it would've been wrong. Perry said that taking the moral high road isn't always easy, and I'm definitely noticing that myself. I couldn't have lied to Michael and gone ahead and had sex with him. I was never so desperate for sex that I'd do whatever it took to get it. I'm not desperate now, either. I mean, I admit that when Michael said he was coming over, I thought to myself "Yippee! I am maybe going to get laid tonight." Though not in an Animal House-ish way, of course. I just don't know what else I could've done to help Michael find me attractive. I did the right thing--got tested, told him straightaway--and I still couldn't make it right. It's funny. Jonathan has been out of my life for months now, and he's still screwing me over.
You know what the kicker is: I was supposed to go to a party tonight, the Seattle WriterGrrls holiday party, at the Capitol Club just a few blocks from here. My mom said I should go instead of hanging out with Michael, because of the networking possibilities and such. But I made my choice. I hadn't seen Michael in three months, and I made my choice. I guess it wasn't a good one, but there's nothing I can do about it now.
Well, at least there was one upside to tonight: I got a free dinner.