Archive for March, 2010

Age 19.

This letter will be longer than you or I would want it to be.

You fucked up my experience of relationships probably for ever. Sorry to be extreme, but its 10 years later and the madness still haunts me. And half of its on me for being 19 and not even understanding what a relationship is, or what it means to love someone. Back then, I thought if you found problems you fixed them.

First, I seduced you because I thought you were cute and crazy. I made you chocolate chip pancakes in a dorm that didn’t have a kitchen because that’s what you wanted for your birthday. And we hadn’t even kissed then.

Finally you relented and we became real lovers, boyfriend and girlfriend, meet your parents, talk on the phone over break, real fucking lovers.

You’d never had an orgasm. Your Dad had somewhere between died and killed himself, an alcoholic. Your Mom is still alive and still an alcoholic. I wonder if you are too.

I’m not sure when I realized it needed to end. And even when I did, I was so addicted to our sexual chemistry (you’d had an orgasm by then) and to thinking I could fix you. There was no way. For so long. This was when I lost faith in myself: as someone with the power to heal; as someone with the discipline to leave situations that harm me; as a friend, your friend, as a friend and lover. I learned to think that sex was addiction, that sex could harm, that I was asshole for wanting to fuck you, even though you wanted to fuck me more, even though, after we broke up, you literally begged me to fuck you. I can’t believe that happened. That you stooped so low and I went there with you.

It took moving to another country to really end things. I was so weak in the face of your sex and madness that only my compulsion to study abroad could overcome my compulsion to fuck you. Thank god for studying abroad.

After that things gradually wound down. 7 months cured my addiction. But not the fucking trauma. Not the horrible view of myself and of women. That shit I still live with, struggle to overcome slowly but surely, struggle to accept will never be fully overcome.

If this blog becomes big enough and you ever read this, I want you to know that I really don’t think its your fault. And not mine even. I hope. I just wrote in this voice for catharsis. To try to quell the demons of self-hate that still fuck up every relationship I’m in. But just so you know, I’m getting better, healing over time.

I can’t fucking believe we’re friends on Facebook and we act like its normal. I won’t write it on your wall, but I’ll write it here: I love you. I hate you. I pray that your life is good. And, if you care, I’m doing ok.

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You were such a gentleman. I liked your car and your name. We didn’t really have anything in common but I think of you fondly. I met you the night #4 broke things off at the frat with the bright red basement wall. I still love that picture it’s great. I wanted to kiss you that night but I was afraid of what my roommates would think. We double dated with my roommate and your friend. They made out in the back seat on the way home it was awkward. I kissed goodnight because you wouldn’t make the first move.

You were not a good kisser; your lips were too mushy. You got a girlfriend right after you broke up with me and you are still together. It bothered me a little because you told me you wanted to break up because of baseball. But you lived in X so it was impractical to see me and I don’t begrudge u that. We’ve kept in touch a little and we talk about hanging out but I don’t think we ever will.

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In the same way sea cucumbers can liquify themselves to ooze into impossibly small openings, our tongues would twist and turn and slugsex around each other, until they and our mouths would liquify and enter each other; and our kisses became long, deep, drinks of the other’s body.

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gym boyfriend

i dreamt the most graphic sex dream about you last night, i feel like we have already fucked. you work at the climbing wall. we have never kissed. we have never dated. we have never hung out. i flirt with you when i go climbing. i think someday we will fuck. i guess i’ll have to ask you out first, though.

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Too Short.

you were too short for me but I liked your muscles and how you laid claim to me right away. We made out for hours. I’m glad I never had sex with you, but you did teach me what an orgasm was. You never pressured me, but I think that’s why you got bored. I think I went to the beach every weekend of the month we were seeing each other while you were partying. Your neighbor in the dorm had to break things off with me for you cuz you were not forthcoming. I knew something was up when I showed up and she looked so surprised I was there. You insisted we were never in any sort of relationship and that you just didn’t ‘feel the romance’.

Later we went to get chili cheese fries and I could tell you wanted to split the check but I was pissed and ordered a lemonade instead of offering to help pay. Much later I punched you in the stomach when I was with #6 and you were with the girl you chose over me. I was wearing a big flower ring and it was satisfying.

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Dear #1:
I always had a crush on your older brother, even when we were dating. I only started talking to you because I called to talk to him and he told me I should date you. You were always so nice to me… I’m sorry kissing you was like kissing a wall where someone licked it.

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well. that was fucked up.

remember when you took naked pictures of me? when we broke up i asked if i could have them. you claim you had already destroyed them. i still sometimes suspect you at least had the negatives still. the thought of you masturbating to them makes me feel like vomiting. even though we were both teenagers at the time, it would be fucking sick if you still look at them. like inappropriate sick.

the secret truth is that i sort of want to see them now. i wonder what naked me looked like at 16? probably really fucking nervous. not sexy. terrified.

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