See, I remember exactly when it all went wrong.


Imagine this:  I was sitting in a booth at Chili’s with T, the girl I was dating at the time.  It was Valentine’s Day, and for once in a long time, I was actually not alone for the “holiday”.


She was beaming at me because she had just recieved her gift, a gold heart shaped pendant with a diamond in the middle.  We ate our dinner, talked about absolute nonsense and went home. 


Parts of me both loved and hated sleeping at T’s.  On the whole, we got along very well, did alot of things together, hell, she was astounded that I actually liked going shopping w/ her, I didn’t see a problem with it, as it wasn’t that big of a deal to me.  Then there were the other things…


There was no reason that the relationship was ever going to ultimately work.  Sometimes the clues are subtle, sometimes they scream in your face.  From T, I got a little bit of both.  Although our relationship was very physical, I began to notice and realize just how one sided it always was.  We dated for about a month before we had sex for the first time.  We’d talk about it, but the situation never really panned out that it could happen. Why?  Because she had a loser psycho ex boyfriend who she was afraid would show up in the middle of the night while I was there. 


Finally, one night out of the blue, I actually ended up staying the night, and we ended up having sex for a good portion of the evening.  For the record, T was 5’10” and maybe 110 lbs, so the girl was thin, reason I mention it is because all I remember from that night, or should I say, what I remember the most is her pelvis slamming into my midsection repeatedly, leaving me uncomfortable and sore for the night and into the next day.  The next day, I get an IM saying, “I just wanted you to know last night was really good.  I just thought you should know that.”  Fine.  I mean I was pretty happy, and things progressed from that point.  But in actuality, they hadn’t at all…


Back to that Valentine’s evening…


We didn’t have sex that night because T was firmly on her period, which was fine.  Something else stirred inside my mind.  Anyway, once we got back to her place, we shared a couple of bowls out of the brand spanking new glass pipe which served as her Valentine’s Day gift to me.  (I bought her a pendant, she got me a weed pipe, see the issues brewing?).


It wasn’t long after we smoked that she was passed out, and I was laying on my back looking up at the celing realizing just how unhappy I actually was.  It really took that moment to force me to recount our entire relationship, and why it was that I didn’t really need to be there.  I put the pieces together, and saw that there were still holes.


1) She never touched me.


Now it was this that I couldn’t get away from.  During our relationship, we may have kissed one time, just once, but I had just chalked that up to maybe she wasn’t all that much of a kisser.  When it came to sex, it was even more obvious.  Although we had sex maybe 4 or 5 nights out of a seven day week, when I thought about it, it hit like a ton of bricks.  Sex with us was ALWAYS the same, in structure, at least. 


This is how it would start:  We’d usually be stoned to the bejeesus for one.  Then, she would lay next to me…but her back was always to me.  She never slept facing me, always with her back to me, but she would sort of lean against me, so that she was more diagonal than anything else.  Sex existed in three phases, which would begin by me sliding my hand into her panties, this was as we all know foreplay, and yes…it was ALL one sided, in fact, I can say with a great deal of certainty that she never actually touched my dick with any part of her hands…nada.  Usually, I would play in her crotch until she came for the 1st time.  Then that was my signal to go down on her, which I did without fail each and every time.  I remembered that she always grabbed the back of my head, pushing my face in as if I didn’t know what I was doing.  This would go on until she came again, and then it was time for actual intercourse.  I have this thing where those who know me know this:  I pretty much spend all my time giving and not recieving.  So, when it came to T, I never thought beyond whether or not she was going to get off, myself be damned.  Although she came often, she never liked to have a large orgasm, because that meant that she would completely drench the bed, which happened a couple of times, and it usually ended in her actually being pissed off at me for making her cum that hard, because that meant she would actually have to go change sheets, I found it ironic that I was actually blamed when she had a good orgasm. 


So then when she had enough, sex was over and she would turn her back on me and go to sleep.  This was the case each and every time we had sex.  It was almost mechanical in nature, what was I to do?  Nothing.


2)  She never really claimed me as her man.


Trivial enough, sure, but as time went on, I realized just how much she really wasn’t there.  People close enough to her knew we were together, hell, there came a point where I didn’t even stay at my apartment for weeks at a time.  I was not just a late night booty call (at least in my perception), because I was there practically morning, noon, and night (except when she was at work). 


3)  She slept around…with other women.


Yes, T was bisexual.  But not in the good way.  Good way meaning that I got to be a part of any of it.  I remember being at T’s and then being kicked out at the end of the night because there was a girl there who got to be with her instead of me.  When discussing threesomes, she said that we could always have one, but it would absolutely affect the relationship we had, and not for the good.  That was the knife that hung over my head constantly, we could have threesomes, but she wouldn’t look at me the same way.  So we never did, not that it actually improved the relationship.


As I laid in bed that night thinking about all the above things, I realized just how much I didn’t actually want to be there anymore.  I was fooling myself.  This girl could never love me, or care about me, at least not the way I would have wanted.  I was nothing more than a meat puppet fuck toy, who had no problem going shopping with her.  How could I continue to ignore it?


I slowly poured out of bed, and back into my clothes.  I crept (or tried to creep) down the stairs, and out the door I went.  Of course, the door gave me problems, so it woke her up.  I didn’t say anything outside of “I need to go home, lock the door.”


I got in my car and exhaled.  I felt pretty good, because at the time, I figured that me leaving was a signal to myself more than anyone that it was all over and done with.


By the time I got to my place, she had an IM waiting for me.  She wanted to know what was going on, why it was that I left in the middle of the night.  I, of course, poured it all out, talking about how she made me feel, or not feel.


It was here where she told me how although I was a good and decent person, and that the sex was incredible (I guess it would be if all you had to do was get served), she really didn’t want me, she just didn’t know how to express it, because I was a good person, and didn’t deserve to be hurt.


Wait a minute…I brought this on myself?


I guess I did, and thus, another relationship plopped down the shitter.  It was my fault that I never looked at the hints or read the clues that screamed at me.  It’s always afterwards that you think, get that hindsight goin’ on.  What the hell?


That relationship immediately segued into Tiffany #1, which was another disaster on a far more cruel level of human understanding. 


No matter what anyone says to you, significant other wise, the signs are there, they are always there.  Some people don’t want to hurt you, and others don’t know how to do things without hurting you.  But the proof is always in the punch, and sometimes a lie is so much better and safer than the truth.


I don’t know if there is meaning to be taken from this, or if there is a lesson to be learned.  This is just what was crossing my mind at 6:13 a.m. on Thursday December 16, 2004 as I waste away another night on the graveyard shift…


Selah…

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7 responses

  1. First of all, people aren’t “bisexual” – either you’re gay or you’re straight, no half-assing it.
    Second, 110 pounds is NASTY.

    December 16, 2004 at 8:06 am

  2. People who lie will face their own karma eventually…that’s all us honest folks can hope for…

    December 16, 2004 at 10:24 am

  3. Anonymous

    The truth is the way to go though.  A lie is something that will haunt you down the road from my experiences, and I don’t want that on my shoulder.  The truth all the way!

    December 16, 2004 at 11:02 am

  4. Also, you’re a assmunchy cockdripface.

    December 16, 2004 at 1:41 pm

  5. Wow…

    December 16, 2004 at 8:56 pm

  6. Anonymous

    Nice entry.  You have a way of writing that makes me feel like I’m there too.  Skillz, mad skillz…
    You know whats even more maddening than being blind yourself?  It’s seeing someone else’s blindness.  Mine, I could always justify and learn in my own sweet time.     

    December 16, 2004 at 11:09 pm

  7. wow… (like my little cousin said)  Sad thing is, I guess there’s been a few men in my past that I’ve treated that way.  I figure if I don’t want to serve someone there is definately a warning sign about my feelings there.

    December 17, 2004 at 3:23 pm

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