I remember the first time. I was barely 17 and we had drunk down a bottle of tequila in 20 minutes. We were all running around the small apartment; you and me and her and him, laughing, giggling, tripping over the furniture. I had met you a few days earlier, the lost love of my new best friend. I was fascinated by your painted nails and big black jacket. All the boys in the tiny little town I came from wore cowboy hats, drove pickup trucks and none of them interested me. You were so different than what I had known before. I had been high or drunk for days at that point, on my first adventure out in the world. I remember... leaning on the little flimsy couch, you kneeling behind it. We were talking intensely like only two drunks can. Something exciting had happened to you that day and you were celebrating. We talked more and more intensely moving our faces closer together. Soon we were touching foreheads, rolling our faces back and forth because it felt good. Next thing I knew we were kissing and you were pulling me backwards with you, couch and all, until I was on top of you on the floor. The night spiraled out of control from there...
You know, she never let me live that night down. She would bring it up at random moments years later with sharp little jabs trying to hurt me. Trying to make me feel guilty. Even though I loved her then she was still a fucked up girl. It's strange now reading your side of the story so many years later; I being there shortly after it began. Always hearing her side only; her infatuation, the relationships she destroyed trying to be with you, her obsession, such a fucked up little girl. I had to let her go years ago, her destructive path too much for anyone to stick around for too long. I didn't want to watch her kill herself and I had too many other things that needed to be done...
Yes. I remember the next times; the intervening years. I did not forget. She was there again; somehow you knew where I lived. Had you seen me coming and going? When she left, you stayed and I was curious to why. We talked intensely once again, as we seem oft to do. You were there for hours; talking. The conversation turning from her and her fucked-upness to my recent obsession with the world of domination and submission; introduced to me by an intelligent dark-haired man with a very bent version of the world resting behind his eyes. He brought me with him and I realized I had been looking for it all along. And I let you play at it; I played at submission in those days still experimenting with what I wanted. Not all there yet. We played at it and it got deeper. More frightening the places we let it go. Your eyes locked on mine; the moment when I threw myself against you and had to stop. You were afraid of what it meant. At least I think you were. You picked up your crumpled pants off my floor and bolted out the door as fast as you could. It hurt but I had other things I had to dig for then; I had to find them and I had to tear at them. They needed to know I was there...
The last time. Yes, the last time. You brought that game with you again; tried to play by the same rules. But I had rewritten the rules; reinvented the game in all those years. Did you really think I would be the same? I still let you but I was always over-ridden with the urge to hurt you as I had hurt them. Always holding back before I took it too far. Didn't you feel the hesitation in my hands on your throat; squeezing but holding back knowing how far I could go. I enjoyed the fight; the struggle but it was a lot of work, forcing myself somewhere I wasn't entirely comfortable being anymore.
You know, it was the moments in between and after that meant something more to me. The moments when you lied in my arms choking back a sob, running your hands over me, confessing what had been happening to you; those moments meant... something. It's not like I didn't know you were going to run again. I attract men like you. I am the in-between girl; something interesting to occupy the time until the next girl comes along. Maybe I do it on purpose; I don't know. But you should know it wasn't just you. You weren't the only one that was leading me here. I knew you couldn't love me. And I didn't love you, but I felt something. You know what it was?... When I was trapped in a small house in the deep North taking care of my ill grandmother. I was exhausted, worried, tired, emotionally spent and everyday... every single day I was gone you got online and talked to me. Poked and prodded me to find out how I felt about you, sending me sexy messages, telling me about your Christmas plans, your cute little sisters... I had been trying to not feel anything for you at that point, just trying to have sex and move on like I did with everyone else. I didn't want to feel anything for you because I knew it would make you run faster. But you pushed me; wanted to know... What did you think was going to happen if you kept doing that? Kept coming at me? Kept trying to get under my skin? Didn't you think it was going to spark something in me? Why push if you didn't really want me? If you didn't really want to know?
But you pushed and we got too close and you ran. I expected it but it still hurt. I knew I was going to appear soon in your written history. I guess we all want to know we make an impact on the lives we move through. We want to be the hero for a little while. It's not entirely your fault. I had been trying to separate myself from the world for years at that point; do you know what it feels like to stand at your doorway and not be able to take the step beyond it? Unable to deal with the world that lays beyond; cringing when strangers touch you...
Is this the confession you wanted? The truth from me you were searching for? Yes I felt something. I'm glad I played with your sexuality and textuality. Sometimes it hurts to see you so happy. But I have loved and lived before; others have laid in my arms trying to take something from me. I just don't know what I can give anymore. I don't even really know what it is you want. What do you want? What are you thinking? What?
You have given me words and I have used them.
You have given me thoughts and I have twisted them.
You have touched me and in that moment I let it happen.
But I can't always be... can't always be... can't always...
It's done now, isn't it?
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