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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Blue Tee Shirt

When you walked onto my work site I couldn’t think about anything but taking off your blue tee shirt and grabbing your tits. Something told me you were alright with that, maybe it was how close you stood to me when you talked, or the way you stared right back into my eyes, you didn’t even know me. I was covered in grime and soot and I think it made you hot. I still remember being so fascinated by how worn and thin that silly little shirt was, it seemed impossible to have so many holes in a paper thin shirt that stuck to your body but still showed me so little.

The first time we kissed in your apartment you acted surprised but you knew exactly what you were doing. Just like you knew how nice it felt to be cleaned up with a hot towel after you blew me. Your friends didn’t help me trust you, they kept on calling you a flirt but I knew when girls say that about their friends it probably means slut. I loved the music you played when we were in bed, I loved how you drooled when you were on top.You weren’t faking anything. I didn’t like meeting guys you were sleeping with; you got off on the attention and tension but it made me mad. I guess that’s why every night you ended it and I never argued, and then we’d hook up. You were so predicable. But I did love watching you try on underwear. And I did love how small your body was. I never had a girl like you before, the hot one that everyone wanted, but I guess that was the deal, you never really let me have you, all my attention for just a little time and your body.

You called it a romance. It was something like that. I saw a picture of you a year ago, you looked like you might have been sick or on drugs or something. That made me sad. Even though you were a little slag, you made getting it on so hot because you just took what you wanted. I would never love you and I don’t even know if you ever had been in love but the nights were amazing. I always hoped you would realize it’s better when it’s real but I guess it was better for me cause it wasn’t. If you read this I know you’ll be happy about one thing for certain, I’ll never forget you naked, you were delicious!

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i am so incredibly grateful to you; you will never know. i’m pretty sure one single fuck could never mean as much to anyone as this meant to me. X told me to get a crush on you, and i thought i couldn’t, partly because you seem so young. but you smell so damn good, i figured a little flirting never hurt no one. i thought we would sleep together at some point, and when we did, i realized maybe sleeping with 23-year-olds was brilliant. you can fuck again almost immediately. the first time we kissed was the second time we slept in the same bed. we were so innocent that first night, because maybe you had a girlfriend? but once we kissed you said “fuck, now we have to have sex.”

you were the only the 4th boy i ever had sex with. i bet you thought i had had dozens. we kissed for a while and i told you if we were going to have sex we needed to talk. i told you i had been raped in high school. i told you i got nervous about certain things sexually and told you the rules. i told you if i said stop you had to immediately. you were sweet and understanding even though we barely knew each other. it wasn’t a big deal but you took it seriously enough to make me feel safe. we had fun. in the morning i felt so good about it. you were the first person i slept with who didn’t already know about my history. this was one of the most healing moments in my sexual life. it made me realize it really was ok. things were going to be fine. you could just have sex with someone. i continue to have a bit of a crush on you and flirt with you sometimes, but who knows. maybe i overwhelm you, or maybe you just aren’t that into me. either way, i care about you as a person and want all the good things for you.

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My best friend liked you. You liked me. I couldn’t believe it or understand why but I went with it. We went to the movies with my other best friend and it was awkward. We saw ‘what women want’ and you held my hand the whole time. You took me on the back of your snowmobile and I met all your dogs. Later that day on your couch you said you forgot to give me something at the movies. I knew you meant a kiss but I played dumb anyway. I remember making out in the snow on the cross country ski trip. You would make me call you every day and then wouldn’t say anything. I think that’s why I hate talking on the phone so much it was stressful. You made me call you so you could break up with me after two months.

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