It doesn’t exist. Does it?
I don’t think so. I find it impossible to believe in something I’ve never experienced. It exists only in the lives of people in novels and movies, and in the lives of those more fortunate than me, doesn’t it?
“You’re beautiful Iggy…so sexy,” he whispers, his hands roaming my bare flesh as he gives me a brash caress and grabs my breast. His grip bruising, telling me what he needs, forcing my body to tune to his needs, preparing me to be taken by him. This is not the first time he’s touched me like this, but each time gets better the sensations never consuming but enough to make me want more.
The first time, my first time was with him. It was unexpected, but then maybe I chose to turn a blind eye to the signs. I was hoping for him to be different, and so when he asked
“Do you want to have some tea tonight?” my simple answer was “sure”.
The thought that it might be a booty call crossed my mind, but was swept away by doubt, doubt from self- imposed questions `who hooks up with someone a night before their first date?… definitely not him I thought, this might be the guy, the one different from all the others, with that first bud of hope I crushed all skeptic thoughts from my mind. This one’s mine, he will be mine.
Feelings I know not of
Yearning, wondering, hoping
Hearing a slight knock on the door I knew it was him, my long awaited guest. I stood up from the bed and quickly hurriedly straightened my sheets and took a quick look around to make sure my small home was presentable. Opening the door, I was once again taken back by his beauty, intricate bone structure and by far curious as to what he wanted as plain as I am. Letting him in, he took a look around, I could only imagine how he saw my room through his eyes. Two small beds joined together, a medium sized flat screen hanging on the wall opposite the beds, two reading tables positioned on each side of the beds and a small kitchenette right next to the terrace that has an epic view of the street and car park with the cars that adorn it, the alps are nothing compared to that especially now with the moon reflecting its silver light on the snow, making their peaks shimmer like a dream. The dense aroma of spices used in cooking dinner hanging in the air.
Turning to me he flashes a nervous smile. Oh, how anxious I am, I try to give him a welcoming smile but I’m sure I just have a pained expression on my face. “Please sit down I’ll get the tea ready” I say pointing at the bed, but really I just need to get my hands busy. What does one discuss while sipping tea? What questions are acceptable to ask? Is it ok to ask if he has girlfriend? Taking a deep breath I reach for the kettle and turn towards the sink to fill it up with water once that was done I plugged it and went in search for my tea bags. They were in one of the cardboard boxes. Squatting next to the cardboard box near the kitchenette I hunted the tea box, opening it I saw that I still had a variety of flavors; apple cinnamon, ginger and lemon, mint, green tea…I wonder which he would prefer. Turning towards him I stretched my hand that contained the tea bags “which tea do you prefer?” I asked. Looking at me he tipped the box to get a better view where then he asked me “which do you prefer? I’ll have the same as you”. I filled the space of time before the water boiled by setting the teacups and then I realized there was no honey. I wonder what he would make of me if he knew that I have no sugar or honey. Who has a guest over for tea without any of these things? Hearing the kettle go off, I put the tea bags in the cups and poured water over them. “Would you like some sugar or honey?”. He was watching me, watching me serve him, I could see his hands between his thighs and he rubbed them together right before he said “no this is fine”. I wonder what would have happened if he had said yes.
Settling down I sat next to him on the bed and turned to face him, clearing my throat I hesitantly started a conversation,
“So how are you?
“I’m fine.” He answered, taking a second sip from his cup, using his hand to fan his mouth, indicating my choice was too spicy for him.
“How was work?” I asked as my second attempt at starting a conversation. If we don’t have a conversation, what else do we do? I might as well go to bed.
“Work’s good” his Portuguese accent prominent in his speech, I could see he was translating directly from Portuguese to English, perhaps that was why he wasn’t speaking much or maybe he didn’t want to speak at all talk less of know me more.
Looking at the table on the right with the only source of light, a lamp turned on he noticed my opened books and the pieces of A4 paper and then he asks “you studying?”
“Yes, I was” was my curt reply. Dipping his hands into his pocket he brings out two pieces of Lindt chocolate. White and dark-milk chocolate. He offers me the white, unwraps his own and takes a bite, closing his eyes as if to savour the taste. he then points at mine, I suppose he wants me to taste it. All I can think of is if all this is worth getting to know him. Even if he’s good and things turn out to be fine what would come out of this? Somehow I feel a kiss from him would answer my biggest question, do we have something?
I’m quiet and he’s busy drinking tea and nibbling chocolate. This isn’t what I pictured, he asked for this I only expected him to want this, looking at his lips I try to think of something else. I take a deep breath with my eyes closed to calm myself, opening my eyes I see him move in, for a kiss? Should I dodge? I’ll seem cheap if I don’t, but I have to know…So I stay, I stay for a kiss and I want nothing more.
The stench of burnt tobacco hits me before the first kiss, his lips are so thin, and his breath reeks of stale coffee and burnt tobacco. How disgusting. Prying my lips open for a full kiss he ungraciously slides his tongue in, Oh my God… I could get mono, how do I stop this? Pushing me down he rests his weight on me, pressing my chest down with his and nearly suffocating me, he sucks my upper lips and then bites it, ahhwwch… how painful but he only takes the moan as a sign of encouragement.
The silver lining? He tasted a bit like chocolate, Lindt chocolate is very smooth, but is it worth this? This doesn’t end, he doesn’t stop there, he wants more and even me pushing at his chest, pushing him away doesn’t stop him he goes on, he wants me bare. This is a booty call.
This is nothing like I imagined;
I’ve met more gracious lovers.
With the dawn of autumn, his colours fade;
If eyes were rocks, his face would hold marbles.
I have had kisses, warm and hot;
But none like those, he offers.
And in some fragrance, there is more delight,
Than the stench my lover proffers.
I wish he spoke more, yet I know;
He doesn’t care for that at all.
For he can’t see straight, until he blows;
And he does so, before dropping me like a ball.
Rolling away from him, I climb off the bed, I needed to see. What are the chances that there would be a physical change in me? Looking into the mirror I see the same, same naïve girl but without hope, the hope that once made her eyes sparkle was recently snuffed out. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I get more than my fair share of his scent, his essence. A harsh reminder of what just happened. I need a shower…
Coming out of the shower I could feel my body exude heat, an extremely hot shower to sanitize me, to wash me clean of his scent, of our fluids, of the last hour. He comes into the bathroom and watches me change into my night gown. Grabbing my arm he straightens me and pulls me closer “I hope I didn’t force you”, looking at him I debate on whether to tell him the truth, that truly I felt like I had no choice, that he didn’t give me a choice, to play the victim you may think of me or to accept my situation, to own it and never be pitiable, I don’t want to give him any power over me so I shake my head and leave the bathroom. Walking into my room I head straight for my desk and pick up a pack of cigarettes, I walk to the terrace and light one up.
Taking the first drag I glance back at him, I can see a nervous smile creep across on his face. He’s trying to gauge my feelings, trying to know what’s going on in my head. I feel a sudden inexplicable urge to laugh at him so I roll my eyes and face forward; I’ll watch the trees sway to the symphony of the breeze rather than experience the chaos that enfolds inside me.
“You don’t like it?” his first question. The uncertainty I hear in his voice strengthens me, perhaps I can make him insecure, it may be small but I want to fabricate damage, damage so authentic he wouldn’t even know it there. One that would imprint me in his memory.
“It was fine” was my blunt reply. My voice void of any emotions but the emptiness that enfolds me.
“Then what’s wrong?” he asks, slowly I turn to look at him and with will of steel I force a nonchalant smile on my face “Nothing” I answer flatly as I made my way back to the room.
Unflustered by his presence in the dark room illuminated by the glow of both natural and artificial light from the outside all filtered through the curtains. Looking at the clock on my bed side table it was 4:30 am. An hour and thirty minutes before I had to get up for school. I tidy up my bed, switching the sides of the pillow and dusting the sheets, I check for unwanted stains, I can’t find any but I can smell him, smell his stale sweat and hair product smell the dirt he accumulated during the day. It was disgusting. This wasn’t what I imagined having my sheets smell like a guy for the first time would be. I put the blanket over the sheets and lay on the bed. Curling into myself I look up to find him watching me. I want him to leave but instead he joins me on the bed. He’s all dressed up already, except for his boots and jacket, perhaps he would leave soon. But no he lays beside me instead and wraps his hands around me, it feels strange… awkward and uncomfortable. I know he just wanted a quick release from his canal desire and I didn’t matter to him, why he’s holding me I don’t know but I have to let him know that I’m not oblivious to that fact, so I pry his hands away from me. Rolling further away from him, I got a peek of the clock and the time was 5:10. I couldn’t wait for him to leave. So I force myself to fall asleep anyways, I try to ignore the urge to push him out cause of how unsafe I felt in his presence I didn’t want him take advantage of me. Not again. And definitely not in my sleep.
Then why do I feel this timid need to be polite, to be nice to him. A few hours ago he called me beautiful but he wasn’t looking at me when he said that, he was holding me down and trying to get my clothes off. Finally drifting away, I’m jarred back up by his hands roving my body, placing my hands on his I pick it up and drop it… I didn’t care where but it was away from me. Like there was no other use for me he gets up and puts his boots on. The time is 5:30 I have just 30 minutes to sleep and I intend to take advantage. He is at the door now, looking back at me he asks if we’ll still see tomorrow and I tell him yes, not because I like him, but because I’m hoping, I’m hoping that this isn’t it. That maybe this was just a hiccup and I will get to know him better tomorrow but I don’t tell him this. I just watch him leave and embrace the emptiness that seems to be all I can feel, I want to cry and hurt myself for being so stupid, but it’s been done and there’s nothing that can change it, so I sleep. I sleep partially hoping to feel better tomorrow but mostly hoping that this is the end.
He came. Again. This time was different, but similar in certain ways. After spending three hours with him on Thursday; hiking on the trail in the woods and playing badminton, he asked me “do you want me to come?” my response was “do you want to come?” I wanted to know his answer… he might have come out with me today just out of obligation, so I wait for his response. “I want to but I have dinner with my mom tonight”, I didn’t know what to make of his response cause I knew the only reason he would want to come is so that he could come.
Later I would find out that he lives with his mother and she didn’t come to visit like his response insinuated, but most of all I would regret suppressing my doubts.
The second time I saw Matt was on Friday. I was all dressed to perfection in a mini-black cashmere dress with long-sleeves which I paired with a black leather jacket, but my real shield against the cold was booze, my face was made up to perfection. But the best part of it all was that I was tipsy. I had given up on trying to call or text him since he had refused to respond or acknowledge my calls and messages and totally agreed on ignoring me. So I was hell bent on having fun with my friends tonight.
A few minutes before we left I got a call from him; he wanted to let me know he was here so I could let him into the building. I let him in. I left my friends for him. It was a rerun of the last time except this time I asked him “do you have a girl friend?” rolling away from me he smiled and uses his hand to wipe his face right before he responds “you don’t want to know”. That was my answer, he definitely had one, but I needed to hear him say it “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t want to know, tell me” and his simple response was “yes”. Then why? Why would he come after me? Why would he cheat on her? Although it explained why, why he didn’t want me calling him, didn’t answer my questions, why I feel he’s hiding something from me, but that wasn’t it, I knew there was more but for now, this is all I know.
I’m that Girl. The one who keeps you up all night thinking, the one who makes you insecure with him, the one you never know but feel her presence in your life. I’m the girl who your man cheats with. You may think you know me but you don’t. No one but me knows, you judge me and see me as inferior and a threat to your relationship but if I told you what makes me tick… I can only wonder how you would react. So I would keep this to myself and keep being me cause if there were two types of women; the keepers and the takers, I would be a taker cause I take but just for a little while cause even I know that nothing can be kept forever.
After that day, I discovered one ineradicable truth. I discovered that love wasn’t everything that counted in life. It was an emotion that not many had the luxury of feeling without any pain fixed to it. Many say that love will set you free, but I disagree. Love is a cage, a very painful one; its gilded bars made with yearning, heartache, and unfulfilled dreams. And the moment I knew that love wasn’t vital to one’s survival I was liberated. No one would have the power to hurt me again.
Later on I would come to know that his girlfriend had a daughter for him and they have been together for five years, living together as a couple.
He still comes by once in a blue moon and tries to feed me stories that’ll keep me waiting for his return, but I’m empty, too empty to be occupied and I plan on remaining this way cause this way I can’t get hurt. Not anymore, at least I hope so. But for now I am satisfied.
The fulfillment of wishes.
Beginning or end?
What is left of life?
With not one thing to fight for…
Truly hope is lost.
When there is no hope…
Life has a purpose…?
This must be the end.
Hope must not be lost.
End of hope is end of life.
Are you satisfied ?